The Doctor Is In � The Choice of Fools
You say you have prayed and those prayers were not answered; I too have prayed–years on end–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 fool’s cry for help to a now-empty universe. A God I once understood completely proved completely inscrutable, hopelessly distant, His ear–if He existed at all–turned elsewhere, His eye on more worthy subjects. Have you then seen–in an hour unimaginably dark–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 fear–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, years–where each dawning day is filled with dread, and death looks inviting–were it not so terrifying. I have no such fear today–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, I’m afraid.
You say I mislead my readers–naive and sheeplike, all–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 others–and most importantly, I lied to myself. Some habits die hard–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 longer–what you see is what you get.