I went to a Russian Youth Conference yesterday (from 12PM to around 9PM) and I loved it. I went to the regular Russian service this afternoon and liked it also, despite not understanding Russian and the FM transmitter/receiver issues that were present. Hung out with the youth until around 5:45PM.
There were many youth. For Russians, they didn’t “look Russian.” They just looked like young people (teenage, 20s, and low-30s). They dressed respectfully, appropriately, mindfully, and engaged in the service and God. I admire how loving and caring these Russian people are to each other and God.
I am reminded of Hillsong. Time and time again I revisit their music. It burns in my heart every time.It burns, it burns. When I see the faces of the singers and instrumentalists, of the audience — the boys and girls, men and women — all so beautiful, so beautiful… the youthiness, youthfulness, the youth.
I once had a burning passion and desire to reach out to the youth. It died a long time ago too. It saddens me, and it saddens me greatly more when listening to Hillsong and thinking as though an old man walks through his memories from childbirth to pre-young adulthood (pre-teenage) to young adulthood (teenage) to adulthood (20s mostly, lower to mid-30s), to older age (40s+) to present time. The youth years mix up my emotions and often bring tears to my eyes; I’ve missed it. I don’t know what it is; I’m an emotional person, and Hillsong (and its imagery) is not only extremely sensational, but stirs my heart greatly.
I’ve also desired so greatly to be a singer and musician as like them; I know not whether this is because of the emotions, the great sounding of the music and voices, or if it is of my spirit thirsting and stirring so greatly.
When I see these young, beautiful and handsome faces and people worshiping God in love, glory, holiness, righteousness, and purity, my heart breaks. My heart breaks. I desireth the same purity and holiness; I desire to be amongst them, the youth, to sing amongst them, to move amongst them, and grow up with them. To grow old with my fellow Brothers and Sisters in Christ.
It breaks my heart. Feels as though I am an old man who missed out.
But it’s as though I’ve been long placed in a time capsule, frozen in time and age yet matured in wisdom and knowledge and perhaps in some ways and degrees in spirit. Here I am, lagged and lagging behind. Left behind. Here I am cleaning up, sifting through the ashes and things people left behind, experiencing a heart breaking memorandum of the things I could have been a part of but was unable. Disconnected, socially dysfunctional, out of the times.
But they obeyed not, neither inclined their ear, but made their neck stiff, that they might not hear, nor receive instruction.
What will be the end of me?
It breaks my heart very much. I’m hurting inside now.
Left behind. So far way…
It seems no matter how I try, I’m selected and singled out into a frozen time capsule with the social dysfunctionality (from whence did this come? This didn’t exist before 4th/5th grade!).
I live in fear. Fear of people. Fear of my family. Fear of my cousins and relatives. Fear of everyone. I’ve lived in this fear for such a long time, and out of this fear have unsuccessfully tried to find acceptance and reconnect.