Bearing Through

 Sometimes, I've reflected on the fact that in each instance where the Lord has carried me through deep waters, there's no public written record of the absolute details. That's not something placed here. I don't detail the events, because that seems to undermine the gravity and sanctity of matters, by my own heart's estimation. It's too easily to take lightly the providences of God, that way, for me. This isn't the case for others, and I do recount matters verbally with brothers and sisters near me...and sometimes, in oblique ways, in personal journals. But this space is not for that purpose, generally speaking. Even to respect the privacy of others, moreover. 

This past week has been a tsunami. Or, no--more like a hurricane: an onslaught of forces far beyond your control, which you are aware is approaching, and the damage of which can't be foreknown in entirety. Some such matters are still referred to as "acts of God" in insurance policies, as matters which couldn't be avoided yet which occurred by natural forces in the world, wreaking havoc. Sin is the wrench in the cogs of the natural order which reap such consequences. 

And even so, He is so merciful. 

I am so overwhelmed and have been so far beyond my own abilities this past week. Matters are still so very dire, and except that the Lord mercifully restrain, there seems to be a tide turning in regard to the general atmosphere. I can't bear the consequences due another, but as one who has been the recipient of wholly undue mercy myself...who once was a wretched blasphemer, ingrate, and hedonistic defiler of all that is holy...I will stand in the gap and plead mercy, for the sake of love and the knowledge of Christ's mercy and the glory He receives for having redeemed for Himself a people. Humbly to plead, though. And humbled in doing so, keenly recognizing my own deserved wrath was not quenched by any merit of my own--I have no stance from which to plead, except Christ. For His sake, by His name, according to the love with which He has loved us, and in keeping with the love of God which He has shed abroad in my own heart. 

He has spared life, this week. And He is working a severe mercy, still, through pain, suffering, incapacitation, and near-abject dependency. I am sorrowful to see these matters, sorrowful to see suffering and fear and uncertainty and anxiety. Yet, I trust God. And He has ordained at times to give us over to sin in entirety, that the flesh might be destroyed--pride leading to the fall, that then the reality of His absolute sovereignty might be humbly acknowledged in repentance. He works according to His own wisdom and will, though. 

Eight years prior to coming to know Jesus, I had a horrible accident which similarly debilitated and altered life. There are still lingering effects, requiring now a conscious dependence upon God for aid: the long-term consequences of multi-lobe traumatic brain injury, primarily. I was laid completely low. And the accident itself was per falling through a balcony railing which had rotted. 

If you've ever had a near-death/death experience (and lived beyond), you will know that time alters in those moments to an absolute crawl--so much passes through your mind, in mere seconds. And even on multiple levels--a conscious progression of deliberation on one front, while memories and regrets and so many things were also being remembering poignantly. 

Of the former sort of thought progression during the fall, I was confronted with the reality of my arrogance. Initially, upon recognizing there was nothing I could do to stop my backward descent, I tried to make myself still the one "in charge" of the situation by altering my perspective to one of satisfaction with events. How horrific, right? Plummeting to my death, but attempting to generate smug satisfaction at entering death, having many times prior attempted suicide and failed at the attempts: trying to think, "well, now, this is finally it, and it'll all be over with: good." 

However, actually facing death revealed that for the lie it truly is. I had many times claimed to want death, moreover to want control of life itself being miserable with my circumstances and wholly discontent in various types of suffering. I had overdosed numerous times. But being confronted with impending demise without any conceivable means of controlling the outcome?--a desire to live arose within me, completely obliterating the professed lie that I was content to finally die. 

Which left me in a dilemma. Because I had long been laboring fully under the idea that I controlled my life and my death. Part of suicidal ideation to me was wanting to have control of death: I feared it, plus I was discontent with being unable to do everything in life I wanted, so to deal with the fear it seemed also good to just get it out of the way and be done with it: to take matters into my own hands. A complex series of thoughts, being oversimplified in that statement, but this was part of the rationale. 

Finding myself in a position where I recognized and could no longer deny my desire to live, while facing death, I was also fully confronted with the reality that I didn't control whether I lived or died. That caused me to panic a bit more, initially. I wracked my brain for some way to land which would ensure I survived--I was falling head-down, backward, toward brick and a concrete bench. There seemed nothing that would ensure survival--too far gone. Nothing I knew, at least. 

Which then, too, confronted me with the reality that I could neither control whether I lived or died nor the condition in which I lived. I realized I could be a paraplegic, a quadriplegic, or even left in a completely vegetative state: trapped in my own body, unable to speak or move or even open my eyes but only hear. That terrified me, too. 

But there was absolutely nothing I could do to control it. There was nothing I could do to alter what was happening. I couldn't influence the outcome. Which put to lie all the life I'd been living. The horrors of witchcraft are beyond fathoming, and my own practices were nothing so far as many folks go. Just the absolute wretchedness of attempting to defy God even blatantly in the spiritual, taking control there--though none can be taken, moreover, rather it's just another sort of blasphemy and rebellion against the most loving, perfect Being. 

In that last realization of my own incapacitation and absolute impotence, I was humbled. And I submitted to God's will. And He spared me. I did die briefly, twice that day. But was resuscitated. And now, unless I tell people...they don't generally know I deal with any limitations even, as a result. 

God granted such grace. And in the face of that, as soon as I began regaining ability to function...I turned my back on Him, overtly. I went right back to New Orleans, where I'd been living, in the middle of Mardi Gras. And I continued to overtly deny and blaspheme Him for many years after that, which is gut-wrenching to reflect upon. 

No one was attempting to plead Christ with me, through all that. No one was attempting to get me to read Scripture. My mother cared for me, kept me in her home, took care of all my physical necessities, but just as soon as I was able to walk and function somewhat normally again (having relearned to read and use numbers, privately)...I went right back. Like a dog to its vomit, yes. 

It was four years after that when I started crying out to Jesus to save me, having been confronted yet again and again with my mortality and the encroaching nearness of death as a consequence of my sinful ways. I wanted to quit living as I did, finally, at that point--the Lord gave grace for that, at least, even if I wasn't fully converted. Because I didn't give it up, finding that my delight was in those matters which were killing me, and that I was powerless to cease from what I enjoyed. Rather, I wanted life to continue, thus wanted to cease for self-preservation's sake. 

I knew that it would have to be from God, to be able to cease. 

Four years after I started asking Jesus to save me, He did. So, eight years after that fall, His will was done in my heart unto salvation. 

My hope and prayer is that not nearly so much wretchedness and suffering has to continue for that work to be complete in this beloved one, now. 

God has spared life. He delights to save. 

I will trust Him. 

He will give me grace for the day, even fearing for life and grieving over sin and suffering.