The Vote

So Saturday night I couldn’t sleep. I was up, my mind racing on things: What to do about my church situation, my present girl situation, and life in general. I did some talking with my Dad online (about the church situation.. I dare say my current girl situation is so far beyond an outsider’s help that it’s no longer worth bringing up.. hence me not bringing it up here much) He was very helpful, as always, and I started to realize what it really was that I ought to be doing, and things started to seem clearer. The downside was that it was Saturday night (well.. Sunday morning… 4 or 5 am by the time I fell asleep), and the vote for Deacon was to be made that Sunday. In typical Ron fashion, I slept through all my alarms and missed church. So I didn’t find out until Monday evening, when the president of council called to congratulate me on being elected/selected deacon. Now, I had little doubt that I’d be picked, I knew the instant I decided I really didn’t want to be. I also realize I have no right to complain, because I never formally asked to have my name removed [nevermind the fact that I never formally asked for it to be added.. but anyway]. There we are then. The ending everyone expected came to pass, and no one is surprised. I guess I’ll find out what all this means pretty soon. In the meantime, I guess I’d better rethink all the things I had figured out. The part of me that thinks he knows what I ought to do, and what I really want is far too afraid of the part of me that thinks “if this is what God wants me to do, how can I possibly say ‘no’ to it?”

8 thoughts on “The Vote

  1. Adam, I want to make this perfectly clear: I don’t like you “like that”. Your advances, while flattering, are not going to change that fact.

  2. Ron, don’t deny the sparks that exist between us. Come, partake of the love that dare not speak it’s name (or, if it does, does so with a lisp.) The more your thwart me, the closer I come to serenading you at night.

  3. Adam, the fact that you could turn a post about becoming a deacon at one’s church into some predatory homosexual thing is, um, telling. Like I don’t really know you, but I know when I’m in GR, I’m not sitting next to you.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *