I'd almost forgotten a temptation that's been trying to sneak in, all amongst the midst of this all, of late. A direly insidious one which would have seemed to've been put to death a while back, given the reality of conversion.
Which, perhaps that's a better preface, for now.
There is a vast, distinct, wholly remarkable difference to life now, from what it was. And one which isn't of my own making, manufacture...capability for having wrought. One internal which is yet working out and through all my ways of thinking and being, having begun at core, last year.
This particular injury, right now, of my back...has brought many things to remembrance, in terms of the vast difference between life then and now, even as perceived.
I'd tried for years...years and years...to find a lasting peace. To forge a secure sense of well-being. To establish some unwavering sense of meaningful existence, according to my understanding of how the world works and what the pinnacles of success truly are.
And no matter which direction, it was all ultimately insufficient to keep me buouyed above a continuously burgeoning sense of depression, despondency, meaninglessness.
Because the thing is--everything I tried, ultimately the only meaning to be found in a given pursuit was only potentially of one of three sources: inherent, socially ascribed, or personally ascribed.
Inherent value of any given endeavor was comprehensively, cumulatively incapable of establishing a sense of meaning sufficient to fully extend to the scope of what life entails.
Each activity unto the next, no matter how appealing, ultimately only equated to a series of activities. Disjointed, even if cumulative in some sense as "progressing" to other levels of involvement--still, then, only more of the same with a different face and finite functionality.
Socially ascribed value was only as fundamentally worthwhile as any-present ability to maintain concern and conviction, individual, for those things which society lauds. Again and again, meaning faltered in the face of an inherent inability to overcome the trials and sheer single-mindedness (at any cost-mentality) entailed in maintaining such a stance as not inherently found fulfilling.
Personal attribution was only so capable of fulfillment as any-present ability to maintain such sense of stability as allowed for continued attribution. As circumstances conspiring to life continually shifted drastically in ways which wholly exhibited truth of personal inacapacity from controlling and predicting the all of reality...then so shifted and disintegrated the illusion of being able to ultimately give and maintain sense of fulfillment, regardless how preliminarily appealing were any particular.
Internal instability, wrought per continued frustration, abuse, and outright chaos of circumstance, continual...gave lie to the idea that even intentionally instituted and continuously undertaken attempts at "maintaining" were beyond personal control.
Even up to that point, last January, having come through to find that I wasn't capable of fully effecting my will without being changed into something utterly contradictory to the then-projected idea of self...utter devastation and despair...unto injury. Then sickness. Then the incapacitation of a back injury so unexpected and severe and to make walking impossible...
...to, in midst of at least a day into that process...
...I finally came to terms with the fact that no matter how well I might try, no matter how much I might think I know about circumstances at any point, and no matter how vast is my resource base for knowledge and contact...
...I was still utterly incapable of doing anything but waiting to see what would happen.
Either call an ambulance or wait. And I couldn't bear the thought of having put my then-roommate in position of having to pay for the door...
...so I waited. And waited.
And still couldn't figure a way to make it not just to the door...but to unlock the door...and knowing that impossible, given I couldn't sit up, let alone stand...
...there was no way I could make it down three flights of stairs without further injuring myself.
So, all I could do was admit defeat.
Except to call on someone else to help me, I was incapable of doing anything. And at best, if I did go to the hospital, then what? I had no insurance. My roommate had no car. And I had next to no money, at that point, and so absolutely had to find gainful employ or face serious difficulty.
It seemed entirely impossible. If I couldn't walk, couldn't sit up, and yet absolutely had to find gainful employ, ASAP...there seemed absolutely no way forward.
Which...even the idea of a wheelchair: three flights of stair. Not workable.
And I needed to move out, moreover.
And needed to have so many things done, which I just had no idea even how to begin.
Just...in that moment, after a full day of wracking my brain for some means of making all the pieces fit into place and finding that there seemed no way, whatsoever...just for, at the very least, having no idea what the deal with my injury was as to whether I'd even be able to walk again, in terms of what that would mean...for all proceeding..
...not knowing that one basic thing: would I be able to walk again?
...made it impossible to plan. So, meaning was gone. Capability was gone. And it seemed wholly impossible to know anything about what was to come, except for knowing absolutely everything was totally unknowable.
And at that point, realizing there was nothing I could do--railing against the idea of such pervasive uncertainty, but ultimately reaching a point of accepting nothing could be done to change it, so rather it be best just to accept truth...
...at that point, same as the shock and dismay began to settle in, then also came thought of God.
Even though I didn't know...He did. All the things I did not know...He knows. He knew.
And it occurred to me that, same as He knew precisely the situation as a whole, then He was also the one who knew precisely how it would work out, and that He was fully well capable of making ways where there are none.
And it was as though all the despair, all the fear (abject terror, really), all the despondency and grief...just evaporated.
Just given realization that God is in control, and I am not. Not even of my own life, truly.
Because, even as there are those who might mock that as seemingly a juvenile, escapist mentality--thing is...it's true. Anything otherwise is just arrogance, borne of a rebellious spirit and pride--same as I labored under for all my life, increasingly (despite even moments of somewhat clarity, per grace), up to that point.
Meaning isn't possible outside of sincerely acknowledging God exists, is the thing. He is the only which is Holy, truly apart...sufficiently also objective and wholly unchanging as to be capable of constituting and thereby instilling absolute meaning. So, the freedom there...also is so vast.
As unwavering.
None other is unwavering, as it's all dependent upon awareness, recognition, acknowledgment, acceptance, realization...and ultiamtely and inherently...maintenance as such.
He's self-sufficient, though. He, alone, is self-sufficient. Thus unwavering, capable of being unchanging...immutable...meaningful.
Anything which could thence have meaning would only do so, in relation to who He is, otherwise the meaning is only superficially ascribed, transitory, as dependent upon finite expressions of understanding which yet are just that--finite, incomplete, themselves passing and changing, even if "developing."
But without a solid, unwavering foundation, anything derived thus inherently is only so sound as that from whence it has derived.
He is the only possible such solid foundation, being self-sufficient, wholly self-contained, thus unaffected by change...unaffected by anything outside Himself, ultimately. Such is sovereignty. Such is supremacy.
Such is justice.
So, it only follows that all things are subject to Him.
Period. Regardless seeming indifference or disdain. Any rebellion which exists can only do so according to His allowance, having been made an allotment for, per His sovereign design. According to His will, then, as permitted. Even if seeming contradictory to Him, then only allowed to occur per His allowance.
Love would be so accepting. Even as love rejected will have what it chooses. Love despised is choosing, per such action, to hate. Choosing, rather than love...hate. And He allows us what we choose, per such munificence as utterly confounds my ability to conceive.
Not that love dies, but the flame consumes that which is not like itself, or some...rather than purifies. Same fire, is all.
We are allowed our choice, through Christ. Whose coming and sacrifice, death and resurrection...even the stars proclaim, so that no one might claim ignorance, but only acceptance or rejection.
We all have the same choice.
Just...in that moment of realizing my incapacity, realizing my limitation...simultaneously receiving realization of His utter supremacy...
...I ceased fighting against truth, in terms of God's sovereignty.
I had, prior, wanted to consider myself sovereign of at least my own life, my own sphere of influence. But that's just not so. And He let me see the truth of that, so many ways, through so many faulty pursuits and attempts at instituting meaning apart from Him, apart from acknowledging His sovereignty and the simultaneous realization of my own then-subjection.
Even as it took a full month, after that point...or maybe longer than a month...with thoughts of Christ, of Jesus...coming to mind, again and again..
...that He is Lord. He is God. Even Incarnate.
...finding, each time thought of His Lordship came to mind, simultaneous resentment and revulsion arose within my heart. Until, eventually, some point came where a fear began to arise in realizing myself utterly despising Christ.
I despaired of that, wordlessly.
And then, eventual came a point where fear gave way to somewhat complacency, then to consternation at even being set against truth. Such that in that moment, one day, when thought of Christ as God, as Lord of all...of Lord of my life and all I am...when that thought came, and the revulsion and resentment arose against Him, against the idea of being subject to Him...of not being sovereign, apart from Him unto my own will...
...as that revulsion arose, then that consternation arose with utter fire, despising even that I should despise truth. And it came a thought that, "He's Lord of all, including me, and whether I like it or not, it doesn't change the fact of the matter, so whether I come to terms with it now or hereafter, it's no less true, so I may as well just accept it and get over it and get used to it, now!" With all due anger at being so opposed to truth.
And that revulsion died, on the spot. That resentment died, on the spot. Extinguished, without even a wisp of smoke to mark the passing.
And gave way to a peace, a further peace...even as though another burden had been lifted. As though I could breathe more freely, for having been let go from some dire uncertainty and anxiety which had nothing to do with reality, all the while.
And how long was it then, till I saw Him? Not in the physical sense of seeing. But stricken. Completely stricken.
Driving. Praying. Talking to Him, in some manner more direct than I'd ever done before, although still so unable to even speak His name, in truth. Just stricken, witnessing Him on the cross.
Have you any conception how pure He is? Our Christ.
Wholly untainted by the world.
Wholly untainted by all our pettiness and deceits.
Wholly full of love and desire for good.
Wholly loving.
And utterly, completely, absolutely, fully aware. Even all the while, there.
Even as though He beheld me, and I knew it, while He hung there in agony.
I saw nothing of God's wrath exhausted upon Him, although all of theology at present says this is the case. What I saw was my sin being borne. One so pure, so untouched by malice and hatred and envy and lust and greed and self-interest...then mocked, shamed...beaten, despised...crucified...even as by me...and my sin, upon Him...
...and in that moment, I wanted to despise myself, except for His love.
But I did despise my sin. Loathed it. Wanted it gone, wholly and in full, never to be returned to, borne, looked upon, or considered. All of it.
...but His love.
And I can't even bear, really, to look fully into that memory, now. There are vague bits around the edges here which are relayed a bit fuzzy, because I can't bear to look. There are points of distinction in terms of the way of what was witnessed which aren't quite well described, not precisely relayed as they were, but as near as present-capability for returning to that glimpse constitutes.
I don't remember how I got wherever I was going. I don't remember where I was going or coming from. All I know is that seeing Him changed absolutely everything, and it wasn't something contrived, it wasn't something expected, it wasn't even something particularly desired--I didn't even know to want for such a thing, having only even begun to come to walk in light of what it means for Him to be Lord of my life, in truth...and barely comprehending even that (yet still, really).
But it happened. Reminiscent of an experience in a church, two years prior. Only...with the weight of my culpability come to bear, even willingly borne by Him, unto abject despair at doing anything except devoting myself in full to only Him and wanting nothing else, forever, in that moment. For, He, alone is worthy. And He is imminently and incomprehensibly worthy.
There were no words, though, then.
No words. But a wealth of experience.
Just to see Him, then, and I don't even know what He looks like. That's what I least understand about the experience. There was seeing in some visceral sense which yet didn't somehow necessarily entail sight. And I don't understand.
But whatever. I don't have to.
Because, really, it's none of my business except that He leads and ordains and shapes according to His will. It has nothing to do with me, except in terms of whatever is His will. And who I am is nothing more than He would have. Same as any.
We're all only who He would have willed and/or allowed us to be. Not according to our own will, even as grace restrains us from such depravity as we would otherwise more fully enhabit. He restrains us from going to the depths, in most instance. Perhaps in all. I don't know quite what the depths of depravity constitute, as to whether even one so...openly malicious as Hitler...might perhaps yet have had the influence of some restraining grace, difficult as that may be to fathom.
Mengele?
It's gut-wrenching to really contemplate we would all go to such lengths, except that we are restrained by grace. According to His design.
None seek God, after all.
Even those who think they do...unless they are drawn by God, Himself, are in fact seeking to fashion Him into their own image, as found according to understanding, rather than as He would reveal Himself. How else could we expect to know Him, after all, except that He reveals Himself to our insensate faculties?...even ever having once turned away from the apparent revelation of Him, as displayed even per His creation? Refusing to know Him on His own terms, in other words, we effectively refuse Him.
All this, though, just to make remark of the most recent bits of nonsense that have attempted to derail. In the midst of physical weakness, then comes temptation to doubt.
Which is absurd.
Seriously.
I remember the despair I used to labor under. I remember that I wasn't even aware there could be any relief, except to make it become something else--to reshape it into another image, more compatible with desires. I remember the sense of hopelessness, drudgery, as the best which seemed to be hoped for was only self-indulgence of various tendencies to interact, wanting meaningful communication, and always finding it too short. Somehow just short of what was desired, but too deep was the fear of rejection to allow for anything else. Rejection merely per incapability of relaying precisely what was ever intended, so rejection merely per lack of total understanding.
No solace, then, of that. And a lack of overt trying in many matters. Especially spiritual.
Because, especially, with as constantly plagued and beset by depression as I was--why was there even a point in attempting to share? Particularly also because what sharing had been undertaken found a silence which was more resounding and striking than would have been mockery. More unsettling.
Not even a refutation. Just a total refusal to acknowledge what was blatantly seen.
So I stopped showing. And when other matters of a somewhat similar nature came about, evidenced and many ways continually tested to ascertain consistency... ...I again shared of them, even unto drawing someone (deplorably, wretchedly) in alongside.
And that didn't foster any further sense of fulfillment, either. So, forsaken. Even as a couple had rejected, then the one who joined in was no less unsettling.
Either way, it doesn't matter now to note the particulars. Just to say that there are more things which the Lord allows than would make sense, except to know His omnipotence is truth.
There's not been a restriction. Even as not all things believed are true, also still, many truths aren't seem for a lack of belief. Period. Same as ever.
Except that His will be done and He will have His portion, regardless our lack of faith and belief...there fair wouldn't even still be regeneration, for such a lack of knowledge of who He truly is. Even as there are those who do know Him.
Without having imposed self-conceived limitations so to maintain a "safe space" which doesn't challenge self and independent understanding, as sought per understanding the understanding of others, rather than of God.
I'm not sure what part of "in those days I will teach them myself" we really haven't quite grasped. It's pretty straightforward, in context, and even as cited in New Testament epistles.
He's who He is, though, regardless whether we believe. And He does what is His will, regardless whether we're willing to acknowledge it as such. He still works His wonders. He still does all He has ever done, and so ofter He was ever wont to do new things. So, does He not do so, still?
There are passages, even, which I've never heard anyone touch on. Strange things which are fascinating. Things which give context and imply varied interpretations for bits which oft seem otherwise resorted to as though inherently meaningful, without context of the whole. But there's not that. All is all. In part and whole. Not divisible.
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