I really don't know what is gonna come out here, but I haven't written here for some time now. I recall promising a series of publishing on the heart of worship, but the Internet situation at Creation prevented such a thing, and, frankly, I'm still discovering what it is to worship the Lord with your heart.

I head back to Valley Forge Christian College in a matter of 2 days (today doesn't count; it's about over anyway). I'm curious as to what to expect. After all, what has this summer done to me as a person? I'm certainly different. The growing pains and stretches I have to show from spiritual movement clearly demonstrate unto me that I have come a long way in my pursuit of God, but is it all an illusion? Perhaps my own mind has fathomed and invented such a delusion that I do indeed dwell in God's presence daily, that, in reality, I am no more spiritually mature than the young person who converted at Youth Convention. I did spend a great deal of my time working, sort of placing myself in a bubble and not spending much time with my friends here (though I did when I could). Though I didn't visit church, I spent frequent time with God, praying, reading the word or reading interpretations of his word, and thus learned more about Him that way. I sought to make my every action one of the Lord, and though I did stumble and fall in some places, I can only write that off as simply being human.

Yet, something still bothers me. On another blog, I wrote about how I longed for the romantic love of a woman, but how I struggled to focus wholly on the Lord and allow him to fill the void there. He certainly did do that, but I found myself stumbling repeatedly. My past actions with women and my constant pursuit of them haunted me, making me desire them all the more. Even as I sit in my local cafe typing this, a pretty girl a few tables over catches my eye. All I can do is remark that God is a wonderful creator of beautiful works, but my flesh longs to do more. Yes, I sound like a pervert, but anyone daring to be critical of such a thing ought to examine how they feel when they see an attractive member of the opposite sex enter the room. I am not alone in this struggle. How is it that a man can cut lust out of their lives to the point where he finally stops defining a girl as a "that" instead of as a person? I relate to Paul having the thorn in his side. I just feel like this is more than a thorn; more like a vicious monster I know I can't control that threatens to consume me, and yet which remains chained to me and never at a distance, a mirror image of what I never want to be again. It taunts me, ridicules me. And yes, God is for me, and no one can be against me, but it sure can put up a fight.

I'm getting weaker.