It is unusually cold here in the NW this week . . . which reminds me of my Minnesota days. Besides being cold, it is so dark too. I go to work in the dark and come home well after dark (especially if I go to the gym).
I felt a little bad the other night because I simply wasted a whole evening. I sat on the couch under a sleeping bag (did I mention our chalet has no central heat but a wood stove) and watched TV. I more like stared at it because there was nothing on that I wanted to watch. So I was hypnotized by a Hallmark Christmas movie (which Denise wanted to watch). I didn't feel like reading, writing or doing any work.
Last night I decided to generate more energy. I did go to the gym but then came home, showered and took on a project. My task last night was cleaning up our book situation. I've build several book cases but still we have too many books (they are stacked in every corner).
As I worked my way through our main bookcase, I tried to pick out useless texts that I could add to the wood stove to create a little more heat (burning books gives me the creeps but these are books that no one else would want).
One book, which I came across, was my old diary from my Navigator training days in Lexington, Kentucky. Each morning I would get up, have a quiet time, write some observations in the small three-ringed notebook and then a personal entry.
The pages were yellowed, the ink look flattened . . .like it had sat on the page for almost 30 years. But the words were sharp. I eventually just sat down on the floor and spent an hour reading through it from cover to cover.
My honest hope was that I would re-discover a good ole Mike, one who was an Evangelical at heart, and who knew all the answers about life. But instead, it was painful.
I would summarize that at least half of the personal entries spoke of about how I knew I had failed God that day. I had not shared the gospel. I had slept too late (which was often the source of my guilt), I had not run my 2 to 3 miles, or, too commonly, been caught up with some lustful act. I saw no happiness with the old spiritual giant Mike. He seemed sad and frustrated with his "flesh."
There are days that I think I would have been better off being the old Mike . . . hard church worker, looked up to, missionary etc. But, the grass is not always greener. That was not a happy time of my life, but a time when I never felt God's good pleasure. At least now, I sometimes do.