Remember me. Please.

I thought having a contrite heart would be a walk in the park. Self-actualization this is utterly depressing. Needing you is desperate and hopeless save for the possibility that you will deliver me. Please. 

You know I cannot even believe that you would save me. I know that you can, but that you will, well, that's a bit more difficult. You took it away. Please give it back. It appears to me that I cannot receive anything that you don't give. I'm lost at sea, the sea of my sinful thought. Draw me to you. Rescue me from swells of doubt. 

You're my only hope.



Whoops. Didn't proofread the last two posts. Neither am I going to.

Welcome to my new day.

The past is what it is. The future is secure. And the present, well, I'm working on the that.

What does the present become if you've read the last page of the story? How does knowing the end affect the "now"?

Let's say life is a book. (Haha.) I read the last page of the book, and find out that prince rescues the princess, the dragon gets slain and the kingdom abides in peace forever and ever. What does that foreknowledge do to the chapter I'm reading right now?

In God's logical, does that narrow the possible outcomes of any given situation? Would I be presumptuous to ascertain what is logical to hope for in this life based on the presumed outcome? Or does hope defy all standards of logic at it's human limitations?

What about Abraham? God tells him the end of the story, at least in his context, and then the circumstances get doubtful. He hangs on against all common sense. He obeys. If he hadn't been obedient would God have still fulfilled His promise to Abraham? Was his faith part of the promise?

I'm just going to stop right here, because this train of thought's last station is Futility. Phew, glad I got off before then. Finally, a little real common sense. I suppose this is a good spot to confess my utter dependence on God for the very spark the lights the fire of my thoughts. Yep. Understanding, I believe, is in the actualization of God's words. Did I choose to act and then recieve affirmation, or did I act because I was affirmed? Who knows? What I do know is that I have seen the God is good, and I will pray to continue pursuing his mystery in all aspects of my life.



Last night I came home to the stench of toffee nut syrup. A garbage bag I intended to take out three days earlier had burst at the bottom leaking the entire contents of the syrup bottle across the kitchen floor. It had been a strange day of emotional whiplash thus far and I thought maybe taking care of the looming mess on my floor would be a good start on the mess in my head.

My friend Travis had just called and told me that he didn't feel like hanging out because he was "tired". I silently raged at him for bailing out, when secretly I didn't want to hang out either. I said, "Fine, whatever,"and hung up.

With new bag in hand, I stood there contemplating how to recapture the refuse. I started by lifting the bag from the top while simultaneously positioning the new bag underneath, all the while avoiding the puddle of sugar. The old bag ripped and splashed down in the syrup. I screamed,"God just fucking help me! Why are you letting this happen to me?" Infuriated at the mess that was threatening my sanctity, I had another go and surprisingly I managed the the pile into the new bag. Washing the syrups off my hands, I prayed aloud,"Help me, help me help me..." My phone rang. Travis.

"You can come over if you want," he said.
"I'll be there in twenty." Begrudgingly.

I carried the mess down to the dumpster, still fuming at my God's silence, and started down the alley toward Travis' apartment. Two blocks down I spotted a man in the shadows, and began to pray for protection. As I drew near, I saw what this guy was up to.

In one hand was a piece of cardboard cradling unidentifiable food stuff, and the other hand was was industriously digging for sustenance in the dumpster. When our eyes met we exchanged shame and hunger.

I walked past him and ducked into an entryway and cried.

Out of the Wreckage

I have felt for so long that I have hemmed myself into this isolation. The very loneliness that defines my inner soul is the thing that has kept me lonely. I fear I may put down my shield and sword in surrender and be cut down rather than receive mercy.

The answer I've been clinging to for the last six months is that I just need to trust in God for intimacy and protection. Then I won't be so scared, then I won't be so desperate. If only I could just trust in God.

I honestly don't know. Do I take off my armor and let the act of stripping be a proclamation of faith? Or do I wait for the confidence from divine affirmation to do so? The first option seemed impossible just weeks before, until I did a "fifth step".

A "fifth step" is what Sexaholics Anonymous calls the act of "admitting to God and to another person the exact nature of our wrongs" and I did it. I made the list ( a "fourth step") then I read all thirty five pages of it to my sponsor. It took five hours. After it was complete I was overcome by a wave of elation, then a melancholy of "what now?" The "what now" was answered when I realized what it meant that I could lay all of my rot on the table and feel free of it.

I still feel that some of the things I told my sponsor were not really "me". I was detached for much of the telling. It made a difference to have him read back to the paraphrased list of sin. Something about hearing another human being tell me what he saw in me when I confessed my sin made it inescapably my own. He sees the manipulative, perverted, greed driven traitor that I am. But also told me that I was forgiven, because God is greater than it all. (By the way, there was much more on his list than what I recounted.)

Repentance is what is taking place in my heart now. I've vacillated between joyous celebration of freedom and despair of the truth of my ongoing brokenness. I'm coming to the realization that my sin is really hurting me, and lamenting. In the last three days I have screamed curses at God and been moved to dancing by my love for Him. The curses contain my repentant desire to be free of my agonizing defects and the dances or for the promise of freedom that I have already tasted.

I hate being cookie cutter, but this is exactly what the SA book said would happen. Step Six is,"Become entirely ready to have God remove our defects of character" and Seven is "Humbly ask God to remove of defects and shortcomings". I confess some of my solicitations of God have been less than humble, but I get my point across.

The conclusion I've drawn from this turn of events in my life is that I can only find the freedom to live if I concede to a relentless stake in honesty. Shoot. I hate getting cornered like this, but I know it's for my own good. All my scapegoating and "clever" ploys to commit nowhere and avoid the truth of my brokenness have come to the light.

God, help me stay free in this honesty.

I'm starting to see that confession and repentance is not an isolated event. Here we go again.