Janice told me to do it

Ok so, Janice has inspired me to write how I feel. So here goes:
I feel as if I know so much and don't do anything with it. I know Jesus loves me and yet I don't do anything to share it. I know the salvation of the Lord and yet I don't share it because I make up a lame excuse that turns into "oh well I don't come into contact with people who haven't heard the gospel". I'm stuck in the bubble of Christianity with words that feed me and then I share them with other Christians who then get fed, but then I feel like I need to do more. I tell myself that I have to wait until later, and then God will use me then, but it's a lie. God can use me now just as I am. I just need to get out of my comfort zone and go out and share the gospel. Do something worthwhile with my life.

On the other hand, my friend sent me a letter that described how he felt and it was something that I've felt before. I am going to post it and I want to know WHY DO WE AS CHRISTIANS SOMETIMES FEEL THIS WAY? Is it part of what you Janice were talking about, how sinful the world is and that is why we're sad? This is what is going through my head. Please take the time to read the letter, it's kinda long, but I want to know your thoughts.

An overwhelming sadness is the kind that pierces through good times.
It’s when a feeling of loneliness arises even after a good laugh, a kiss, a warm conversation. It’s something that lives through birthday parties, relationships, inside jokes, and best friends. A deep, barely perceivable worthlessness that hits you when you come home from a talent show or a school sporting event. Even in victory you feel a defeat looming over you like an angry elementary teacher with ruler in hand. First you play it off as dissatisfaction with your appearance: I really need to start running, I have put on some weight. Down passed all that particular farce, you realize that you are no less or more attractive than you were before these feelings crept into your life. No, It isn’t your love handle or the dirty moustache that you think makes you look like a Mexican. It’s something that perhaps doesn’t have a cause. Maybe there is no origin other than the fact that you exist; and if that is true, than how could there be a cure for this dejection that seems as if it will outlive you entirely?

I try to explain away this feeling that seems to be the rule instead of the exception in my life. Obviously, if you are not happy it is because you have forgotten that you have Jesus in your heart and you will be able to spend eternity with him! I believe it, and I know it, but it appears as if this sorrowful state that I continue to return to "as a dog returns to its vomit" can even defeat the most sincere breakings of the will. I have been broken and humbled before the Lord so fully and still this encompassing feeling of anonymity and nothingness returns to me with renewed vigor. And of course, once I finally get what I thought I wanted, I am forced to lie that down by some divine conscience that leaves me unable to even truly be happy with what I thought I wanted.

So what do I do with this? The feeling strikes me now as it always does. I even feel a certain cold acceptance toward it now, to the point where I can write these words that tie me to the very core of my own discontent. It’s almost as if it were a living thing, my cloud of sadness, that bids me to silence my voice and stop running my fingers across the keys in my perhaps fruitless effort to expose my thoughts and perhaps understand this things control over my mind. But how could it be fruitless if, even now, it begs me to send this message to oblivion. My own mind is shouting at me, accusing me of trying to invoke pity and even mocking my weakness.
I feel this all now, as well as other things. When I look at my condition I see two separate but equally beautiful pictures. Through one window I see a believer in an all-loving Christ. This man spends his time developing friendships with his brothers and sisters and is loved by them. He has been blessed beyond his own knowledge by the Lord, and is never found without a joke on his tongue and a laugh in his lungs. In the other window, the view seems to be less jaded. Though it is dark, you can see a man with addictions, a user, a hypocrite and deceiver. He bathes those around him in compliments, but perhaps he has just forced himself into believing that such actions will draw others to him. Though the individual clings to a splintering cross as the man in the other window, the one uses it as a crutch and the other uses it to defend himself against the ferocious blows of the world as he slowly and steadily fails the very Savior that was pierced on the cross he uses as his makeshift shield. In the end, both of these men will be freed from the hate and pain of this world. The question is, why do I have to be that man who lives in such a horrible place some of the time? Why can’t I remain in the grip of Christ throughout my life? Of course, I know the traditional fascist Baptist/Judeo Christian answers, growth comes through suffering, our faith must be tested for it to be true, free choice. All these answers make sense when they are outlined, lectured, and explained by people who have spent their lives trying to avoid the issue by educating themselves on the various ways around the issue. The bottom line for me is not some vast theological paradox, it’s not some complex theory, life choice, or all the other 10 dollar phrases you can find for yourself. The final truth for me is that right now, I feel sad. My 8 year old sister can understand this basic fact just as well as my 54 year old father who has been a believer for decades, teaches theology at a college, and pastors a church. I am sad now, I feel better when I sing nice songs and other people tell me about Jesus loving me, but as of late I’ve been coming back to the same place no matter what I do. And I am here now.