Tonight there was a celebration at Cliff College. We celebrate every 2 weeks, the work God has been accomplishing in us and through us.

We gather and sing, think, reflect and encounter God together.

Tonight, a student at college preached on St Paul, and talked about how the message we proclaim is meaningless unless it has affected our lives. There was a big emotion-filled call for prayer which, frankly, put me off. Yet if the invitation is open for prayer, and heaven knows I need it, who am I to refuse?

So, surrounded by my peers a wonderful prayer of deliverance was prayed.

Yet as I sit here now, I am not delivered.

Still I feel alone, desperate and heavy with the weight of so much sin and sickness of the soul. What is the meaning of these ‘crisis moments’ when my reality is not changed in a meaningful way? It’s great that God wants to make me to sin less and to pursue goodness, but I don’t perceive his Spirit to be working that into my life. Still I live a lonely existence of quiet desperation.

It’s comforting to know that only I will probably ever read these words, I wouldn’t want to make my peers feel like they were doing something wrong. Frankly I can’t fault them, and I can’t fault in this college.

It’s God I find fault in.

Why aren’t you there, when it’s falling apart, when night gets longer and the days grow shorter? I pray often to you, yet you’ve clearly stopped up your ears so avoid hearing me. Frankly my faith dwindles. An aching soul is not one fit for the service of mankind, and so if this is my burden to bear, so be it. Maybe the life of a recluse is best, I think the world suffers enough due to people like me anyway.

Whatever.

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