I can’t tell you how many times I’ve felt this feeling. I’m not sure how to explain it, but I know that I worry about it. It is a feeling that lies between anxiety and contempt, and it is as stressful as it is confusing. I am waiting for something, but I’m not sure if it even exists.
I don’t usually run from problems, but when I’m faced with a decision that I can’t make, I might.
I’m not an overly religious man. I was raised Methodist, but for most of my teenage years, I began questioning myself and my beliefs. I never attended church as a child. When I turned 16, I began searching for answers. I joined my friend’s church contemporary worship program as a guitarist in the band. I enjoyed the service, but didn’t take anything spiritual from the songs. It wasn’t until my girlfriend suggested that we go to church together that I began to search for salvation.
It was a hope that my yearning for this “salvation” would also lead me to find the unknown. Yet my desires were never met. I was afraid that this feeling would forever drive me to madness. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.
But I knew that it would someday it all end. And that gave me a reason to believe.