On My Own (20 page)

“Why would waiting until my wedding day be any braver than doing it with a guy right now? I mean, I think people who get sexually involved without the commitment of marriage are the brave ones.” I laughed. “Or the foolish ones.”

She scowled at me.

“I'm sorry. But it's just how I see it. To me it seems really risky to be involved in casual sex. Honestly, I just don't get it. I'd rather wait and have it be really special with just one man–the one I love and am willing to spend my life with–and on my wedding night.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, the old fairy tale–and you'll live happily ever after, right?”

“Oh, I'm sure there'll be some bumps along the way. But you can't tell me that the choices you've made regarding sex have made your life all peachy and wonderful.”

“Maybe not. But there's not much I can do about my mistakes now–other than to hopefully learn from them.”

I smiled. “Well, learning from them sounds pretty smart.”

“And I'm sure if I need any advice on how to keep myself sexually pure, you'll always be ready and willing to dish it out, right?”

I laughed. “You bet. Bring it on! And if I don't know the answer maybe I can just make something up.”

She smiled. “Yeah, I'll bet you could.”

Now what I'm actually hoping and praying will happen is that I can share a little bit about Beanie's story–how she gave up her virginity and subsequently got pregnant. Then she recommitted herself to God, and now believes He's restored her virginity. I know some people don't quite get this, but I'd like to see Liz's reaction. Who knows, it might give her hope.

So anyway, here I sit alone in my room with plenty of studying to do and I'm writing in my diary, feeling slightly sorry for myself. And why is that really? I'm not sure what it is–exactly–but something just doesn't feel right to me.

Josh and I e-mail almost every day. And although I feel closer to him than ever, something just doesn't seem right. And that bugs me. I know we're not doing anything wrong, at least I don't think so, but at the same time I feel uneasy, like I've blown it somehow. I keep asking God to show me and nothing really comes up. And yet I feel sort of unhappy.

I suppose it doesn't help to know that other people are out living and acting like normal college kids. And here I am feeling like a lonely old maid. Now I know that's ridiculous, but it's how I feel. I mean, Lindsey and Kim
are out with Stephen and Bryce tonight. I guess I know why kim was so elated when she learned about Josh and me. It freed up Bryce for her! Not that I really mind. I guess I feel sorta left out. But it's more than that. I have a feeling I've made a big mistake and God's just waiting for me to figure it all out. And I have to admit that makes me feel rather sick inside. But right now I really need to do homework! OH, GOD, PLEASE HELP ME!

Today's sermon really blew me away. I mean, I've heard the story of Abraham and Isaac before and how God spared Isaac from being sacrificed up there on the mountain. But the way Pastor Obertti told the story today just totally blew my socks off!

He said that God did that whole thing with Abraham and Isaac, first of all, to foreshadow the way God would be willing to sacrifice His own son in order to save the world, but secondly, to teach us all something about our priorities. But let me start at the beginning. You see, God told Abraham that he would be the father of nations, and that his descendents would be more numerous than the stars–which are uncountable, I think. But the problem was he was a really old guy and his wife Sarah was way older than my grandma! So the likelihood of those two senior citizens having dozens of babies was pretty slim. Still, God did the miracle (after
Abraham and Sarah blew it trying to get a baby through Sarah's handmaiden Hagar, but that's another story …).

Anyway, they had the baby Isaac. He was like their promise child–the one God would use to deliver all those uncountable generations through. So obviously Isaac was really, really valuable to them–not to mention beloved since they so badly wanted a child. But can you imagine how poor old Abraham must've felt when God told him to take this precious boy up to the mountain and kill him! Sheesh, there go Abraham's dreams right down the toilet. But this is the amazing thing: Abraham loved God so much and trusted Him so completely that he was actually willing to obey. Still, it had to be tearing him to pieces to think he would actually have to slit his son's throat up on that mountain. Man!

But Pastor Obertti said that we all have our own personal “Isaacs.” (Something we love so much that it threatens to overshadow our love for God.) And usually it's not something bad–that would be too obvious. Usually it's something (or someone) that's good and lovable and perhaps even may appear to be a gift from God. He used the example of a woman having a dream to be a missionary, but after a while the dream of foreign missions became more important to her than God, and she had to set it aside to get her priorities straight. He also talked about a man who dearly loved his aging mother–to the point that he wasn't willing to do what
God had called him to do. Then he spoke of a guy who was so distracted by his love for his fiancée that he nearly forgot about God and he had to get his priorities right.

Okay, you can probably guess where I'm heading with this. I am afraid that Josh may be my “Isaac” and that God is asking me to sacrifice him. Of course I'm not going to kill him, but to be honest (and all lightness aside), it's killing me to consider this. I'm scared that God is telling me to break off this “covenant” with Josh. And if He is telling me to do this, I'm worried that I can't. Because the truth is, I don't want to. I love Josh, and I can imagine spending the rest of my life with him. Oh sure, I may only be eighteen, but I think it's possible to know something like this now. And so I'm feeling really confused. I mean, it seems like God put Josh and me together in the first place. So how can it be that He's breaking us apart now–or wants to?

Of course, I know in the story of Abraham and Isaac that in the last minute, God jumps in (or rather an angel does) and spares Isaac. As a result, Abraham doesn't kill his only son. But this doesn't even happen until Abraham raises the sharpened knife into the air. Arggh! what am I supposed to do with this now?

I've had the most miserable
week ever. Not because of classes (although the load is heavy enough) and not because of Liz (who's actually been pretty quiet this week) but because of this whole Isaac/Josh thing. I haven't written a word of this to Josh–I mean, what would I say? As a result, all my communication with him is beginning to feel stilted and phony. But that's not the worst thing.

The worst thing is that I'm starting to feel a barrier rising up between me and God (or maybe it's been there since Christmas and I've only just begun to notice it). Also I have absolutely no peace inside. It's as if a storm is raging–or maybe it's a battle that's waging. I don't even know how to adequately describe it, except to say that it feels miserable. Totally miserable.

And so I know what I must do. And the mere idea of
doing this thing is just killing me inside. But not to do it is a form of torture far worse than death. I feel as if God's asking me to cut off an arm or a leg–or worse. And it scares me to think that I love Josh THAT much–that this would be so painful. I'm thinking:
what if
he truly is the great love of my life? And
what if
, in letting him go, I lose something that I'll never find again–
ever
? But, on the other hand,
what if
I hold on to him and permanently lose the TRUE LOVE of my life–God?

Of course, I know what I have to do. What I MUST do. But the question is: Can I? Do I honestly have the strength to let go of Josh? And what about Josh? How is this going to make him feel? will it crush him, break his heart, wound his spirit? Will we ever be able to be friends again? I mean he's been one of my best friends for the last two years. How did I get into this mess?

After some more heavy soul-searching, I know, without a doubt, what I must do. I suppose I've known it all along (deep inside). The problem is, I'm just not sure how to do it. The telephone seems like such a weird way to say something as serious as this, plus I'm worried that I'll get all flustered when I hear his voice, and consequently, I won't
be able to explain myself clearly. But I hate to e-mail him–that seems like such a cheesy way to communicate something as critical as this. And so I think I'll sit down and write an old-fashioned letter. Not like a “Dear John” hopefully, but something from my heart that will carefully communicate exactly what it is that God is doing in me. I know it's too late to do it tonight, because I need a clear head, but just knowing I've actually made my decision helps some. Oh, I still feel like I'm bleeding inside, but I'm hoping that maybe the pain will go away, maybe in time.

I walked around campus today and thought of how I would write this difficult letter to Josh. And as I rehearsed the words and explanations in my mind, the thought occurred to me that maybe this is all just a test for me. Maybe I'm going to be like Abraham and get clear to the point of raising my knife in the air (or maybe it's my pen) and then God will send an angel to stay my hand, to stop my pen, and to show me that it's okay for me to continue loving Josh. Just as long as I always know that I must love God most and foremost. Maybe that's it.

Well, no angel showed up last night. When I sat down to my desk and began writing my letter, absolutely nothing
happened to stop me. Liz didn't come home early from her date. The phone never rang. No one knocked on my door. And so I just kept writing and writing and writing. As I wrote, I could see that I was still trying to deceive myself into thinking that this was just a test and that I would only pass this test once I actually dropped the letter into the mailbox. But then–in the midst of writing–a vivid picture came to mind. Okay, not to sound weird, but it was almost like a vision.

Suddenly I imagined or envisioned this thing that was planted in my heart–okay, to be honest, it looked like a weed–like a dandelion. And that dandelion represented Josh. And although I honestly don't see Josh as a weed, I believe that God was showing me he is. Well, I just burst into tears at this thought because I totally love Josh. I really do! How could he possibly be a weed of all things? He is a good and decent person–and he loves God with his whole heart. I believe this. But then it slowly became clearer, kind of like the clouds parting, that it was
only for me
that Josh is a weed. And I felt that God was showing me that as I obeyed and wrote that letter, I was pulling the weed from my heart.

And so I thought, well, okay, if that's really what God wants me to do, I can do it. I mean, it might be hard and feel painful, but I can do it. Still, as I'm writing the letter, I'm crying so much that the tears keep messing up the pages. But I keep on writing, just pouring out my heart to Josh.

But then as I finish writing and feel that at last I'm
done, it hits me that although I may have pulled off the top part of the weed (by writing the letter), the roots of the weed (the hope that this all is
just a test
) are still planted deeply in my heart, and somehow I know that God wants me to take a trowel or something equally sharp and dig the roots out.

So now I'm really sobbing, wondering how it is that a loving God could ask me to endure such seemingly senseless and endless pain? And why is He saying that Josh is like a weed? Am I just imagining this whole thing? (Although I know I'm not.) And I don't know how I can possibly continue digging into my heart to remove all those tiny little roots–memories of all the good as well as bad times that Josh and I have shared over the past couple years? How can a mere human being do such a hard thing?

But just as I felt I might give up, that this task was too much for me, I suddenly felt a strong and comforting assurance that I only needed to yield my heart to God (the Gardener), and if I let Him, He would do the work for me. And so that's what I did (and what I am doing). Still, I can't say that it's easy or that I feel especially good, because the truth is, I feel somewhat numb right now. However, I did drop the letter in the mailbox today (even though it's Sunday) because I didn't trust myself to hang on to it until tomorrow. I was afraid I might've thrown it away.

And to be honest, I feel emotionally spent and drained–like I could just sleep for a week. But despite
this, I also feel a very real sense of peace that is indescribable. And I'm thinking that I did, after all, really do the right thing. That is a comfort.

Today, for the first time in weeks, I actually experienced a real sense of joy. Okay, it wasn't a jumping-up-and-down, I'm-so-excited kind of joy. But it was real just the same. I feel certain it's from God. And the truth is, I haven't felt that deep sense of joy since before Christmas, before I made that covenant commitment to Josh. And so I'm feeling more certain than ever that it really was God showing me that my decision was wrong.

Even so, I've been fighting off some anxiety in regards to Josh's reaction to my letter. I know he won't get it until tomorrow or maybe even Wednesday. And I have no idea what he'll do or think or how he'll respond. Every time I think about this whole ugly business, I get this awful knot in the pit of my stomach, and I honestly think I could just toss my cookies.