Left Behind

"Then shall two be in the field; the one shall be taken, and the other left. Two women shall be grinding at the mill; the one shall be taken, and the other left."

Such were the words of Christ concerning the rapture (a doctrine to which, I recently learned, not all Christians subscribe). For the benefit of the uninitiated, the rapture is basically a future event in which all living Christians are taken up into the air and meet Christ, leaving behind only the unbelieving. [Wikipedia locates the etymology of the term as such: "The word 'rapture' comes from the same root as rapt: the Latin verb rapere, or the adjective raeptius[1], which means 'carried away by force, caught up'."]

The Christian fictional Left Behind series by Tim LaHaye is based on the events of the rapture, and a period of tribulation. An effort was made to create a cinematic version starring Kirk Cameron; if that name sounds familiar, it's because Cameron played Mike Seaver, of the popular 1980s sitcom Growing Pains. I do not believe the film adaptations have found the popular support enjoyed by either the novels or Growing Pains.

I have been feeling a little bit "left behind" recently by the exuberant spate of dating consortions and engagements. It started yesterday in Sunday school.* Our lesson was on prayer, and we were to break up into prayer partners for the applicational segment of the lesson. In my mind I expected Shui to pray with Auggie, but in my heart, I hoped that we could pray together. Actually, I prayed with Kevin Yap, which was a delightful and transcendent experience, but still...

...it's like--it's like: it's like...

To what shall I compare it? To what can it be compared? Even as I plead with my mind, usually a veritable metaphor sweatshop--see there's another one!--to furnish me with some analogy, it refuses.

The hard thing about this struggle is that it's not dramatic enough to render real sympathy out of anyone. It's not (thankfully) like losing one's child or one's parents, like discovering you have a malignant tumor in your liver, like a tsunami or like a category five hurricane. Maybe that makes it worse, in a sense. It's big enough to be the source of real, abiding pain, but not dramatic enough to get some pity. And, as do all adults, I understand that the ultimate end of my suffering must be the heaping of commiseration upon my head. Depending on the amount of attention a particular hurt can elicit, it is sometimes worth one's while to sacrifice a little dignity and advertise his troubles.

In my mind, when they [Shui & Augs] got back together, I started to imagine my giving a reproachably effusive best man's speech at their wedding reception. Of course the pleasure I would derive from such an event stems from my receiving the attention of 200-300 people forced to listen to me talk. The best part is when I say something like "Augustine, I'm entrusting you with my best friend, who is now your best friend. Please be patient with, and take good care of him." But I am learning that *now* is the time to prepare to let go of my best friend. I must be prepared before the time comes, that I will not be rendered completely non-functional. I am learning, as a friend once said to "hold things loosely."

Then I found out Grace Jan is dating. Grace, my long time friend whom I just assumed would remain single, period. In the minds of many who know her, she seemed like this stalwart warrior of singleness, her heart an impregnable fortress of bachelorettedom. And yet, here she is--totally smitten [at least from all the reports I've been able to gather].

Then Pam called, and she is dating. While her relationship is nothing new (half a year old, in fact), somehow in combination with the amalgam of other couples, it proved another thorn in my side. I think the sky is just going fall on me.

It's as though I were standing in a field with all of my friends, then suddenly, and rather inexplicably, half of them were taken up into thin air, and I was left behind. Perhaps I should mosey on over to the griding mill and see what the remnant ladies there are up to.

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*Editor's note: Perhaps it actually started earlier. See, for example, "The Broken Road." Nonetheless, the most discernable cause of this recent case of melancholia began yesterday (May 28).