Of passionate fear

I have once found a passion that knews no bounds. It was something of a gift, something of a innate talent that I was fortunate to be blessed with. I took pride in it. It was the gift of drawing.

I have once another passion that knew no bounds. It was something that could have been more. It ruled my mind, and held captive my heart. It was a love/infatuation/relationship that never gotten anywhere.

I have once another passion that knew no bounds. It was something of a focus that drove my life. It came like a bad rash, and is now fading away with the passage of time. I thought it could have lasted forever. It was my academic foray into psychology.

I have one passion now that had known no bounds. It was something of an accident, something of a pre-ordained destiny. It gave me my freedom, it gave me hope, it gave me strength, and it gave me a renewed outlook on life. I think it might last forever as well. It was my encounter with God.

Despite these passions, I have never really done anything in its hot pursuit, to attain it. I have neglected and went to opposite direction from drawing, to the point where I have now lost the gift that was given to me. I have been inert in my affections, and now its too late and there is no turning back. I had spent the last three years moving along through my course, and had never really pursued it with what you would call passion; now it no longer crosses my mind, and attaining honours seems so far away. Would you call these things passions if I do not actively pursue it?

There is a fear within me that my 'passion' for God may be of the same caliber as these other things. Is it truly one of my biggest passions to know and love God? What if it becomes just another 'passion' that fades away, or left neglected is lost forever? Sometimes, I truly hate myself for wanting something badly, yet being so indifferent to it in my actions. I know God is forever, God is eternal, God's love will always be the same. Yet I know my own, and I know that I am not forever, not eternal, and neither is my love; that a day comes when it will all become insignificant again, just as it was with everything else I call my passions. Can I sense the coming of this day just around the corner? Do I feel the strain today? I feel its oppressive presense everyday, a fear that just won't go away.

I hope that day will never come, when my love for God shall fail, and my faith crumbles beneath my own iniquities. I would rather die before that day if it must come. The thought is one of my greatest fears.