Love is Not a Feeling

I'm a really big fan of Myers-Briggs personality types. It's actually one of my hobbies to watch people and try to guess their letters.

I am an ISTJ. A sensing, thinking, judging, introvert. It suits me pretty well. Famous ISTJs include a whole host of military leaders such as George Washington, Dwight D. Eisenhower, and Stonewall Jackson. If you're not picking up on this, I'm not exactly a gushy gushy feeler. I'm logical.

Feelings are important, but feelings (and feelers) are also often mislead and driven by their emotions.

Love is not a feeling. Love is a decision.

Sometimes, it can be both, and that is really lovely, but being dependent upon some will of the wisp emotionalism to decide important relationships in your life is not okay.

I bring this up to (once again) talk about the Lord.

He and I are taking life one single day at a time right now, and to be honest, I'm having a pretty difficult time here in NI. Learning a lot, not mourning my losses, but just ready to go home and feel like I fit and belong somewhere.

I've written about that a lot, the concept of "home." I don't know where mine is. The home of my childhood will always be my point of reference, but my friends have moved on from there; Arkansas was my college home, so it's already altered from what it was when I was there; Here is home in location and home in practice.

For me, give us this day, our daily bread is give me an exact measure of fortitude to stand up under this day.

If my love for God were feeling-based, we would be on the outs right now.
But it's not.
It's an accumulation of decisions: chosen actions, chosen thoughts, chosen views of his character. I trust him.

I trust that being here is exactly the right place for me and all the consequences of being here what I need to be drawn closer to him.

At the same time, the moments he gives me a break from this taffy-pull growth are delicious.

Last evening, sort of by accident, we had living room snuggle/worship time.

For I don't even know how long (a couple hours at least), one of the guys played the guitar and we worshiped together. The room was dark-ish, the fake fire glowing, and we were all set at ease to spend time individually, communally with God.

It reminded me of NLR Unplugged nights back when I worked at camp. Friday nights, we would pack into the chapel, light candles all over and a fire (even though it was 1000 degrees), and sing together. There is something powerful and awesome about cutting out the electric (lights and instruments) and lifting up your praise together with fellow believers.

For me, there were no chills of holiness nor a feeling of staunch resistance. There were no ping-ponging thoughts or self-consciousness about my singing. No feelings of any kind. For some, this would be discouraging. Not for me.

Still. 

For those two hours or so, I wasn't wrangling my own psyche into the straight and narrow path. I just got to sit on dry ground and sing while the Lord held back the walls of the Red Sea of my mind. And I realize I've mixed some metaphors there, but I'm also okay with that.

I want to go home. That is my feeling. If I followed my feelings, I would be on the next plane to Tulsa.
I am a follower of Jesus. That is my action and decision and statement of devotion. That is love.