Landmarks and Remembrances

Y'know, if you read through the Bible, people were always erecting some sort of landmark as a memento of sorts of some sort of thing that God had brought them through. Whether or not it was some sort of big battle that had been won or was simply being able to ford a river or whatever, the people of God were always intent on gathering some stones and building some sort of structure to be able to look back to as evidence of God's working in their lives. Even the Bible in itself calls us to read it and remember, to engage these things of God as history and realize that He is in fact out and about.

Well, I've been going through some stuff, more or less internally, and am finding myself in one of those spiritually dry spots. St. John of the Cross refers to it as a "dark night of the soul"; others as just a funk. Either way, I'm fighting those thoughts that, instead of making their way to the Pearly Gates, my prayers and instead being ping-ponged back to me courtesy of our ceiling. Bible reading proves dry and even some spiritual reading that I like to do has seemed just, well, dry. As such, I've tried to follow that biblical mandate of "remembering", of looking back to the signposts and landmarks left along the path of my journey. The problem is, I don't think I'm seeing what I'm supposed to be seeing.

Instead of looking and seeing the small structures erected that declare, "God did this", or "Remember when He stepped in and did this", I'm instead seeing a littered pile of stones along the way back that instead call out, "Remember when you screwed this up?!" Sure, I have those few landmarks that all good Christ-followers are supposed to have, marks of conversion and such, and I do realize that there are more that I'm simply blind to in these moments, but I'm finding that those good things are shadowed over so heavily by my failures. Now, a good thinking Christian will take the tact that, well, I'm saved and am therefore forgiven of all wrongdoing. The righteousness of Christ has been imputed to me and that when God the Father looks down upon me, He does not see my faults but rather the glory and beauty that His Son has placed upon me. And I agree with this theology.

The problem is that, well, existentialist that I am, I don't feel very forgiven right now. I feel more like a failure than a success. This place is not where I'm supposed to be. Of course, it can again be argued that I'm right where I'm supposed to be; that God has placed me in this place for reasons that only He knows. And again, I acknowledge and agree with the theological truth inherent. But that doesn't mean I have to like it. I just need some piece of grace to fall my way, to remind me that it all really does make sense in the end.