I am not sure of what to say to Him (referring to God). After the thanksgiving and worship part, everything else is a blurred vision which may never be in focus. For days- weeks even, I had been oppressed with a tumult of vague hopes and fears. Although I could not at first ascertain to what degree I had been separated from this Christ consciousness, it was beginning to show in my mannerisms. It repulsed me, and I felt angry. Inside, I felt nothing. The words that left my lips were empty- a recital. "Now, my dear friend- now for your sins, you suffer the infliction of a long drought." the very last thought that crossed my mind as I scratched my head to welcome sleep.
Darkness begins our lives. In our mother's womb we grow, live in darkness. We see nothing, literally. We live dead. Pitch black. Morbid darkness.
When my late father crossed to the afterlife, I was eight years, and I felt numb to the pain of that loss. After the memorial, I made my peace with it and moved on. In the years that followed, the numbness began to wore off and I began to feel the weight of the loss and his absence. In class six, I began to feel this overwhelming sorrow that buried me beneath sheaves of uncontrollable tears. It was a sad nightmare, and I was ridiculed terribly for it. My mother did, without fail, tell me that God is good and that everything He does is good. I knew this hook, line and sinker. My spirit knew it, but each time I thought of it I became angry, and each time we prayed things just worsened. It seemed like things were easy when we prayed less but she always gathered us every morning to pray. My anger stemmed from the fact that even though we had prayed for my father, he still passed on. In my heart and mind, God had disappointed me, and it was good. Each time those words left my lips I felt like a little boy who was saying thank you after being spanked. The feeling lingered on.
I think that when people say, "I know how you feel." during an emotional loss, they are just trying to be sentimental, relate, ease the suffering- and that is honest- but sometimes being speechless sells your sentiment better. Until you have experienced something of the same nature as I have, spare me. At a latter part of my journey, the realization that God is indeed good hit against me on a solemn Thursday afternoon. I had estranged myself from everything, and retreated into solitary confinement. During which I learned that God wants each of us to experience Him differently. Our experiences although complimentary must be different.
I think God has a weird sense of humour, and gets bored easily. I think He is excited by the innate things we are excited about. God can easily give us everything we want, need, desire. But if He did that, the balance we so much crave will be thrown out of orbit. The crippled peace we find in this conflicted world would be thrown into utter chaos. Our shimmering hope- something we should all take pride in- is that God is good, and He did not create you to live a marginalized life. Everyone will die. So no matter how long they live, the pain does not get easier when they pass on. Understand that your judgement of God does not change who God is. He is absolute, entirely full, nothing can undo, mutate, trigger something that He isn't.
To close my little inner conversation, I want to tickle your brains with this mystery, if you would indulge me. God created everything and said that it was good. Everything- the good, bad and ugly and said it was good. Of course, when God created it he mandated man to label it.
Darkness begins our lives. In our mother's womb we grow, live in darkness. We see nothing, literally. We live dead. Pitch black. Morbid darkness.
When my late father crossed to the afterlife, I was eight years, and I felt numb to the pain of that loss. After the memorial, I made my peace with it and moved on. In the years that followed, the numbness began to wore off and I began to feel the weight of the loss and his absence. In class six, I began to feel this overwhelming sorrow that buried me beneath sheaves of uncontrollable tears. It was a sad nightmare, and I was ridiculed terribly for it. My mother did, without fail, tell me that God is good and that everything He does is good. I knew this hook, line and sinker. My spirit knew it, but each time I thought of it I became angry, and each time we prayed things just worsened. It seemed like things were easy when we prayed less but she always gathered us every morning to pray. My anger stemmed from the fact that even though we had prayed for my father, he still passed on. In my heart and mind, God had disappointed me, and it was good. Each time those words left my lips I felt like a little boy who was saying thank you after being spanked. The feeling lingered on.
I think God has a weird sense of humour, and gets bored easily. I think He is excited by the innate things we are excited about. God can easily give us everything we want, need, desire. But if He did that, the balance we so much crave will be thrown out of orbit. The crippled peace we find in this conflicted world would be thrown into utter chaos. Our shimmering hope- something we should all take pride in- is that God is good, and He did not create you to live a marginalized life. Everyone will die. So no matter how long they live, the pain does not get easier when they pass on. Understand that your judgement of God does not change who God is. He is absolute, entirely full, nothing can undo, mutate, trigger something that He isn't.
To close my little inner conversation, I want to tickle your brains with this mystery, if you would indulge me. God created everything and said that it was good. Everything- the good, bad and ugly and said it was good. Of course, when God created it he mandated man to label it.
