You say you have prayed and those prayers were not answered; I too have prayedâ€“years on endâ€“to a God I once served but who in mercy left me to suffer the consequences of a life driven by self-will and self-satisfaction. Hollow prayers, desperate prayers, prayers a foolâ€™s cry for help to a now-empty universe. A God I once understood completely proved completely inscrutable, hopelessly distant, His earâ€“if He existed at allâ€“turned elsewhere, His eye on more worthy subjects. Have you then seenâ€“in an hour unimaginably darkâ€“that same God you never knew reach down with gentle hands and unspeakable love, to scoop up this poor refuse and restore him to a life and hope he could never have imagined?
You say I pray from fear: I have known fearâ€“the kind that tears up your gut like ground glass, eating at your soul like cancer. I have lived with such fear for weeks, months, yearsâ€“where each dawning day is filled with dread, and death looks invitingâ€“were it not so terrifying. I have no such fear todayâ€“it is gone, by virtue of grace and mercy. I pray out of gratitude; I pray out of trust; I pray out of joy at a life now meaningful and at peace. I pray for the burdens of others, I pray to be of service, to fulfill my purpose in life. But fear? Never fear, Iâ€™m afraid.
You say I mislead my readersâ€“naive and sheeplike, allâ€“promising them certainty where no such certainty exists. I have lived a life of deceit, LJ, where lies were my daily fare, where shame drove me to masquerade as someone I was not, juggling a web of lies until I could no longer distinguish truth from untruth. I lied to othersâ€“and most importantly, I lied to myself. Some habits die hardâ€“I would tell you I no longer lie, but that would be untrue. But I have found transparency to be a far simpler life. What I write here are my thoughts, my passions, my struggles, my life. I strive to deceive no one any longerâ€“what you see is what you get.