The Mountaintop

The stones echoed in anger as they fell down the side of the mountain and to the valley below. The monotonous tone of the rocks cried out, refusing to keep silent. My fingers grew numb as I grabbed for any and all handholds upon the mountains edge, failing more often than not. My feet slipped and fell on the loose rock, tearing into my skin through the holes of my jeans. This would not deter me, my mind is resolute, and I have to keep climbing upward.

A feral growl grew from deep within as my determination grew. My instincts to survive the climb had all but taken over. Nothing on this mountain would dare to come in my way. My body begged for rest, but I would not have it. I could not have it! The top was in site and my answers will be found there. They had to be, they must be. There was no other recourse, no other path to take. The climb was all that mattered. There would be no rest in this life until I reached my goal.

I had to face God where he would be, to answer for the pain He caused me. I wanted to yell at the top of my lungs, to scream my pain, my hurt, my sorrows into his face. I wanted him to know. I wanted…I...wanted.

Many plans to prosper me he said, but I do not see prosperity. Sorrow has been my gift and sorrow did not leave. It always found its way back. No more, I could take it no more. I wanted answers, instead there was only silence. This is why I had to meet God at the mountaintop. Here the answer would come, here I will be heard. My petition, my request could not be ignored.

My hand grabbed the edge of the top as I felt a firm grip for the first time throughout the climb. My labored breathing came in rasps, begging for water to quench my thirst. It did not matter, nothing else concerned me in this life. The wind blew its chilling breath as I worked to stand on the firm ground. I swayed in the wind as I cried out to God. “Show me why!!?”

The wind carried the sound of my voice into the clouds above. At that same instant thunder struck, blasting its anger, careening off of the edge of the mountain and bringing me to my knees. In its place was a cross, shining brightly in the sky above. Rain like tears started pelting the ground around me. In my selfishness and sorrow, I had forgotten. This life was not about me, it never was. My tears mixed with those from the sky. I blanket of comfort wrapped around me and I knew, at that point, that God understood my pain too.

I preferred this, I knew, to be in God’s presence. I did not want to go back down the mountain and face my fears and pain. The hurt that this life caused was too great and all I wanted was to find my rest in the presence of God. This is the peace that I craved.

The House - The Bedroom (Part 3)

Now that my finances were in order, I wanted to get back out into the dating scene. Time to put my effort into chasing girls instead of chasing material goods I thought to myself. Jesus had helped with that anyway and with a better budget, I had the freedom to spend it on women. I had recently broken up from a long-term relationship and I did not plan on anything serious. The emptiness and loneliness without having someone else beside me clouded my thoughts.

I soon realized that the Christian values did not help me very much in my quest to find and date women. This negative aspect alone caused me to doubt myself on why I had let Jesus move in, in the first place. Women seemed drawn to me just by treating them like I didn’t care. Had I known this earlier, I would have been the perfect relationship guru in town. Though, as they say, it is better late than never when it comes to being every woman’s dream. Or at least, that’s how I pictured myself as.

There was one main hurdle that I had to overcome. This came about when I tried to bring a girl to my house. Having to let them know I had a “roommate” didn’t quite go over so well. I played it off well, usually, but sometimes the night didn’t go as I had planned. Jesus seemed to have this solemn look on his face that didn’t quite sit well with me. The girls would feel superstitious as if I had a dad that kept an eye on me and what I did.  So my plan was to circumvent this issue altogether.

My house had this back entrance that would lead to a small room right next to my bedroom. The look that Jesus would give me, avoiding the front entrance seemed like the smartest thing to do. Besides, I normally came home late at night anyway, why bother Jesus? I did not want a hindrance for the life I wanted to live.

By using the back door, it was a win/win situation for me. I would not feel uncomfortable by the look Jesus gave me, I did not have to explain why I had a roommate, and by the time she left in the morning, she wouldn’t know any better nor would Jesus get in my way. This whole issue had been easily resolved, or at least this is what I believed. Yet, for some reason, it didn’t quite seem like I was doing the right thing. I shook the thoughts from my head as soon as they appeared.

I wanted the women that I slept with to fill the void that the last girl had left vacant. Instead, every morning I felt worse than I had the day before. The temporary happiness and love from the prior night did not heal me. It only felt as if the scab had been ripped off and the wound grew worse the following day. As the weekends continued and the women came and went, I fell further into a pit of despair. Why were these women not the answer I had hoped they would be?

It became a viscous cycle that dragged me further down, just like a drug that never satisfied. I did not come out feeling that I was cured, rather that the medication was not strong enough. Maybe, I thought, I was not experiencing enough? So I started to treat the women worse than I did before, thinking that adding something new would help medicate me. The thing is, I wanted to cure me, to fix me and the void in my heart. The means for how I got there or who I used should not matter. Yet, the new prescription I gave myself only added to the emptiness in my heart.

It was during one of these mornings where I finally decided to ask Jesus why I felt the way that I did. He pointed to the Bible, but I scoffed at him. “The view of relationships in the Bible is outdated,” I said, “how could it know any better in this day and age? Sex is just a physical thing and it doesn’t affect you.”

Jesus replied. “Then why do you feel the way that you do?”

I began to make a retort, but stopped myself. Why did the depression and despair I felt grow worse after? I was seeking to fill a hole in my heart with any woman I could find who showed interest in me. Deep down I knew this but I had been blinded to it because of my physical desires.

Jesus wasn’t done with me. If coming to the realization that I was using women to medicate myself wasn’t bad enough, he had to finish me, just like the old Mortal Kombat games I played as a kid. So the dagger came, the words that I could not forget even to this day. Jesus said, “Do you not see, do you not understand? You are hurting me.” He paused and with a sadness in his eyes and continued, “They are my daughters whom I love.”

The words tore through me like a butter knife through melted butter.

I never realized the choices I had made, never understood the consequences of my actions. I had looked at women as an object to be worshiped, to be used and thrown to the side. My selfishness refused to see beyond my own pain and into the heart of another. If they are his daughters I thought…should they not be seen as my sisters?

The thought of my actions, the way I had treated all these women flooded through my mind. I couldn’t look Jesus in the eye, I felt unclean, evil, and dirty. All it took was a few words and my entire worldview shattered before me.

I started to remember what the women I was sleeping with had told me. One had come from a recently broken relationship and was seeking the same thing I had. I looked past this only because what I cared about more was her body, not her soul. She had left without a word the next day. Another had told me that she was sexually abused as a kid and had looked for someone to help heal her heart. I had looked past this pain because of my inability to see beyond my own short-term desires.

The pain and hurt that was in the world around me was real. I, just like everyone else, thought sex was a way to fill a void in the heart. That the passions of the flesh was just physical. I knew this could not be true anymore, not after what I had gone through and the words of Jesus which cut into my soul.

I slowly took the key to my bedroom and gave it to Jesus. It would take time for me to heal from this pain and grow, but one thing I knew, I couldn’t view the women I was with or the relationships I had the same way as before. My willingness to let Jesus hold me accountable while I was dating a girl was a beginning, I knew. Maybe, I thought, I should hold off until the right time to do so.

The road would not be an easy one, and I was glad that I still had one place of solace left to go. The last key burned in my pocket, begging me to follow its call.

The Double-Edged Sword

The double-edged sword pierced my body and into my heart with ease. I had fought day and night against my foe, yet winning seemed futile. The cold earth rested below me as I lay with my arms out wide. The battle left me out of energy and out of breath. No more could I defend against the blows, no longer did I fight for my life, and I had nowhere left to run. I welcomed the strike, an end to the misery that the last few days had brought. The double-edged blade knew its mark and its strike was true.

The pain that I felt was sharp and real, yet the wound drew no blood. It cut to the core of my heart, but I could still hear the beats that it took. All I could do was to be still and wait for the coldness of death to overtake me. It never came. A moment of panic started to build up as I lay pinned to the ground, the sword holding me in place. I prayed fervently that God would rescue me, something that I hadn’t done in years.

A sudden stream of emotions flooded through my body, taking over my soul like a bolt of lightning from the clouds above. The pain, the hurt, the tears that I caused to the one whom I loved the most, overwhelmed me. The realization of what I had done, all the yelling, abuse, and pain was from a place of darkness that had resided inside of me. I did not see through it and I could not understand it, not until I was pierced through the heart by this…double-edged sword. It was as if it carried the truth straight into the deepest part of my soul and bringing with it the reality of who I had become and what I had done. It crept up from my heart and into my mind as it overwhelmed my thoughts and emotions.

I knew now that my selfishness, my pride had come in the way. I ruined, what I believed, was the only good thing left in my life. Tears streamed down my eyes as I sought to claw the memories from my mind. The sword had brought conviction, a truth that I was blinded too. It pierced, not my heart, but the darkness surrounding it. It struck deep into my soul, not to finish me, but to redeem it.

I began to understand that the pain which I felt was not from the double-edged sword, it was my own. 

The wound had always been there and the sword only found the source. As it removed itself from my heart, it took with it the darkness that blinded me. I was left broken but with hope. I was in a place of remorse but not without strength to continue on. I knew what I had to do, though the path to redemption would not be an easy one.

Hebrews 4:12

"For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart."

The Beach

The grains of the sand sifted between my fingers as I moved my hand across, breaking the smooth surface that had once been in its place. The heat flowed through the sand as it warmed my body, moving up my arm, fighting the chillness that had once stood in its place. I knew that the tide would remove all clues of my very existence from this place, forgetting the roughness that I had brought and leaving no memory behind.

My fist clenched the sand as I lifted my hand up in the air. A sign of refusal to accept the fate that befalls all men. The sand slowly began to seep through my fist, trickling down the arm and bouncing off my body and back to the beach below. I opened my fist only for the sand to fall at a quicker rate until there was nothing left. It settled where it fell, forgetting how it had been lifted up and ending back from whence it had come.

As I sat in my chair, my body grew tired, remembering the long life it had once lived. The ocean waves brought with it a reminder of the eternal cycle of life on earth. The breeze gave a smell that no longer provided comfort, only a chilling breeze as it passed through my bones, continuing its predetermined path.

Time did not stop for me, it slipped past as quickly as the sand from my very hand. The beach stretched beyond the horizon and I felt lonely, afraid, and tired. I had gained all I wanted in life, lived as one with no thought of an afterlife or consequences to my actions. The retirement I spent my entire life working towards was not what I had envisioned. It did not make me happy as I had been told, instead I was overwhelmed with bitterness. I had given up everything for this very moment, my friends, my faith, my very soul. Now, as time neared its very end, I had nothing left. There was no laughter, no comfort, and no joy. All that kept me company was regret.

Why did the beach bring such an emptiness to my soul? I pondered the question until darkness wrapped around me like a mother putting her son to sleep.