“I have seen way too much to let my heart break.
With the father’s past, how can distances be great?
This is for the Earth that slept too late.
Bless the thief.”
Pain rattles my bones, over and over and over. I can’t think straight, I can’t see straight. For the past six months I have been incredibly selective about who I let into my grief. I have been very intentional about giving the impression of transparency while keeping my most gut-wrenching questions, doubts, and fears secret. I’ve probably divulged my whole story of grief to two people, and even then, I have not told them everything. I am learning something about myself. When I got to college, I became someone who externalized everything. If I have a problem, I desperately need to talk it out. This can sometimes get me into trouble, but I cannot keep it in.
Ever since Jordan died, I have done the opposite while still trying to maintain the veneer of honesty. And I know that I can’t keep it in. I first must submit it to God, which I have been trying to do. I’ve spent hours just crying before Him, because I could not muster the words to say to Him. I have stood in silence and awe, marvelling at the beauty of a loving Father who could see my pain, my betrayal, my lust, and my addiction to myself and still have the gall to call me “son.”
“In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness.
We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.
And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit,
because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God.”
So my prayer is that the Holy Spirit will take all my wordlessness as I lay on my face before God. My prayer is that I will seek to confide, to put my hope in Christ and bare my own weakness and redemption before the world. One day, I want to be a man with no secrets, no guilty conscience. Not perfect by any means, but submitting to God everything that might come between us.
My biggest fear as of late is my own wandering mind. Two days ago, six months since Jordan died, I woke up with an awful thought dancing through my mind. It came without warning or provocation and I was afraid of myself because of it. My mind screamed, God is not good. He is not loving. He let this happen to your friend and you’re permanently damaged by suffering and he doesn’t care.
It came out of nowhere and hit me hard in the stomach. And as I felt it, I may have believed it, if for only a second. My fear had crippled me, and I wasn’t sure if it was even okay to think thoughts like that. But after much prayer, many tears, (I haven’t cried so much since June) and the comforting brought by the Holy Spirit who lives in me, I saw that I had to engage those questions if they were ever going to go away.
I know they are ludicrous. I have signed away my life to Jesus, and I have no other choice but to believe in the goodness of God. There are so many situations with so many people and so many miraculous acts of God that I’ve seen in the past several months, and I cannot deny the goodness of God. I cannot ignore the persistent mercy of God or shut out the power that has given me the strength to press on. But I had to engage them. They were lies of the Enemy, but if I didn’t think through them and relinquish them to the Father, I wouldn’t be able to talk about them now and I wouldn’t be on my way to being set free.
I stand back from this event and I say resolutely: The love of God is real. It is strong. It is persistent. If you ever feel like he has left you, please know that he has not. He is waiting for you to shower you in a love that is never ending. He has sought you out and is devoted to you. Be devoted to him. Seek Christ above everything. Above every fear, every sin, every victory, every relentless voice that would wish to scream irreconcilable doubt into your mind.
Be faithful to God, He is faithful to you.