I remember very specific period of my life, in which the world seemed as if dead to my. Nothing attracted me there, yet it had not been depression. I didn’t weep, I just experient silently and without any emotional pain the dryness of the worldly affairs. I begun to feel like a stranger there and ceased to be interested in myself also. That means I felt that I dont want to boast of myself anymore, don’t want to do anything to gain anything from the world, becouse no thing attracted me there. I felt like a bare tree in a desolated landscape- it felt good to be there, claiming nothing- yet WHY? Why am I there and what is the pupose of life of someone that gives up the fight- not from cowardice, shyness, helplesness or any thing of this nature, but from not wanting to participate anymore in any kind of illusion. I’ve been stipped of all of my illusions and things that I believed and cherished, yet I didn moarn, I just was there, bare like a tree in autumn. I watched people and places, took long solitary walks, feeling myself a stranger to this world and wondering calmly: what is the purpose of my being there, if nothing attracts me in the whole world? There must be something, since I don’t feel desperate or even sad being in this state of mind. I dont wat riches, career, I dont want to get involved in dirty and foolish things that are common down there. Im no longer interested in any of my talent or ability, in my bieng clever or pretty et cetera. I dont want anything in exchange of this.
Yet I’m to be there. Why?
I felt my heart knows the answer and whispered silently: God. It must be so.
Not knowing anything about God I’ve decided to start going to church. I thought to myself: altrough church is a man-made institution, it serves God. Priests are imperfect, it’s true, but they are just human. I just layed aside all doubts about going to the church I could think of and prepared myself secrecly to go to the mass. It had been my first mass from many many years. In my head a believer meant a church-goer; believing meant necassarily attending. And a church meant catholic church. I prepared myself and went: in secret and with joyful heart. I wanted to turn over a new leaf, start everything anew, on a ground of being uttely decent, no matter what! Even if the church itself was imperfect. I went to the mass: I didnt remember when to sit, stand, what to do for I had not been attending masses since childhood. I observed others and followed their example. But I didn’t tell enything nor sung with them: I thought I would better examine these things closely before I angage in them fully. But the time of confession came and I knelt with others and told with them I believe in Christ. When I did that, I felt I really came to believe in Jesus.
The mass ended and I joyfully left the church. When strolling down the path something mightily overcame me: I felt power filled me- real power I had never experinced. It’s migt indescribable- it’s no emotion- the might was more real than reality itself. I felt total safety and deep peace that came into me. The world looked in a different way: more clear; colours were more lively; vivid.
I didnt know for a long time from that moment, that what I’ve experienced was actually the baptism of the Spirit.
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