Sorry. I still don’t know how to bring things down to earth again here. Partly because nothing about my life right now feels normal. Stuff like blogging has felt just a tad frivolous.
I’m still reeling over everything that’s happened to me, religiously. It still seems like something that should happen to Other People. Other people become Protestant. I still roll the whole thing over in my mind, trying to examine it from all possible angles. How did I even find the nerve. I’ve also felt, upon going public about all this, a tad naked, dragging into the spotlight stuff which was only known to those closest to me.
My thinking has also spun off on some weird directions as I try to grapple with things as a Roman-turned-Anglican. But, I mean, be a Catholic for some time, with all that entails, and then to find that absolute trust compromised, is to at least come to suspect that the world is an even more fallen place than initially supposed. It drives home the notion that this life truly is an exile.
But it’s also obvious that God’s grace has been operating the whole time, through all this, that the light truly does shine in the dark, and is not conquered by it. There’s good where I’ve come from – much good. Which leads me to think about the manner in which good and evil has interacted in my life, and how inextricable they can seem. You know? That the fact that evil can be even here speaks to the reality of sin, while the fact that it still isn’t allowed to have the final word speaks to the reality of divine mercy even here. I’m not quite sure how to phrase it, but the practical import is that I can’t just write off an entire phase of my life without also throwing out the wheat with the chaff. I do feel that way about Rome. It’s not worth being a total reactionary about it, even if I do have some bitter feelings here to work through.
Ditto with the gay stuff, but in a somewhat inverted fashion (heh). Even in my more affirming mindset these days, it’s quite apparent to me that this aspect of my life has often just been an occasion of sin and regret, that the world of the gay male can easily be one of brokenness and loneliness. The starkness of it is more acute when you believe that there’s something intrinsically redeemable here, that maybe you’ve treated something good like a garbage receptacle. I do wonder if this is part of the reason why so many pious same sex attracted Christians of a traditional sort wind up having such gargantuan struggles with lust; because it’s easier to sin against a good which seems so abstracted and alien to you, easier to find delectation in an aspect of your person which feels metaphysically futile.
I dunno; I’m just thinking out loud past midnight here.