A funny thing happened on the way to hell...

Lisa was right, stillness and solitude do not lead one naturally to the throne. It's fine to seek peace and quiet, but it indeed must be deliberate, and likely away from the familiar surroundings. Unlike Lisa, I wasn't so fortunate to merely enjoy this weekend's isolation.

It is definitely time for me to leave this house. This weekend saw me spiral to a depth of iniquity unmatched since the days before the bible studies of last spring. (UCU guys will recall the subject matter.) The ghosts of old temptation haunt this place and it was not long before my defenses crumbled. Oh yes, I fought mightily, but I can't help feeling I was destined to fall. Even an emergency late-night trip to Pete Rutter's place could not ultimately fortify me.

Digression:
I watched The Dead Poet's Society at Pete's. It's a very good movie and I recommend it highly. Joel would appreciate the lethargy of story movement and heavy character development. Additionally, it's rated PG (albeit a 1980's PG). Anyway, I left his place at approximately 3AM. Not the wisest idea, perhaps. The road to the freeway is a wide avenue that winds towards Dash Point. Towards the freeway itself there are some very large intersections. The last of these is about the size of a baseball diamond. As I merged into the far right lane in preparation to enter I-5 just prior to this final intersection, I noticed a sign indicating that the right lane was turn only. I glanced ahead and deemed that the lane continued past the intersection. In the time it took to consider these things, I became utterly oblivious to the red light which had been outstanding for some time. I drove straight through it and only dawned on me halfway through the intersection what I was doing. It was immediately then that I realized I was far too tired to be driving. After that I was all but panicked as I merged onto I-5, waiting for flashing lights to appear behind me and ghastly insurance rates ahead of me. I drove all the way home (30 miles) in that frame of mind, apologizing profusely to the Lord for my ignorance and begging Him to prevent me from being such a hazard to other drivers again. Ultimately I made it home safely and without being pursued by the police. I just hope they didn't take my picture and mail me an expensive ticket for reckless driving. Well, at least now I know when NOT to drive somewhere.

End Digression, Continue:
Where had God been? Where had my ability to choose Him gone? Somehow my cognition took a partially disparate path from my actions. I could think about what I was doing: I knew, and I shouted to the Lord about it. Still, I had not the power to stop myself. My will was bound and gagged and made to watch the humiliating spectacle. Like a prisoner interrogated, foul things entered my mind and entertained my flesh. It was a slow and painful burning, and when the fire had consumed enough of me, it engulfed even my reason and extinguished itself in a flourish of unholy delight.

By the time my madness ended this morning I felt utterly defeated and fully ashamed. What a let-down I am: to myself, to another, and to God Himself! The Son of God shed his priceless blood so that I could throw my gratitude away and kick the nails deeper. Rendered an empty vessel, drained of its vitality by the chaos of a sin problem that may pursue me the rest of my life, a very curious thing happened.

By no effort of my own a warmth of empathy washed over me. It filled me with energy that I knew had bled away. It filled me with Light. One of my favorite Christian CDs is the album Speakeasy by Stavesacre and I just happened to play it thence at full volume, still having the house to myself. As I found myself singing aloud and lurching heavily to Keep Waiting, some of the words dawned on me:

in just a little while
They'll wish that they were silent

Keep waiting, I'll be right on time

I can't pretend to know the full significance of these things. I can't comprehend how filling my mind with filth served any purpose other than to make my mental idle choke on its own fumes. But maybe, just maybe, I was brought low to be reminded. Maybe I had forgotten my position in the Heirarchy, or maybe I had become absorbed in the events of the last month and simply forgotten the Heirarchy altogether. What I do know is this: That God deemed it good to shower me with Grace sufficient to bury the lake of sin I had been drowning in over the last few days. All at once I was flooded with truths: "I will never leave you nor forsake you." "Where sin abounded, Grace abounded more." "Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells in me." "forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus."

It is impossible to elucidate the gravity of this realization. It was as though I had been awakened from a heat-induced trance by a bucket of cold water. God himself reached down, down into the pit I had excavated, and saw fit to scoop me up, place me once again upon the Rock, and replace the failing flame within me! How unbelievably merciful he is! That final verse rang about in my head not as Paul's example, but a clear command from Jesus himself: "Forget those things which are behind and press on towards me." My Lord Jesus Christ poured his blood upon my sins and the Father sees them no more. Therefore, I am to see them no more: I must only see Christ.

Unexpectedly, this is a directive I have not considered often in the past, I soon saw. I had thought that by wallowing in my guilt before the Lord it would make my petitions for forgiveness somehow more potent. But I need not really petition him at all: I have already claimed Jesus as my Savior, yesterday, today, and tomorrow. All sin I have ever committed or will commit is erased from his Father's book.

My prayer is different now: I don't need to ask for what he has already given me. No, now I will ask him for more of his Spirit, for the ability to keep my sights securely trained on Jesus Christ alone. The way is narrow, and few pass through it. Difficulty is inherent in the choice; our footing is not as sure as his. But what does it matter? My sins, my failures, my consistent inadequacy only magnify his Name even more! If by my lowliness I can make others aware of his greatness, then I am satisfied. I'd rather be the Poopsmith in his Kingdom than the King of the Grey Town.

Lord, please blur away all things that are not of you. Make me deaf to the voice of this world and amnesiac to the memory of my flesh. May all my senses be trained on you alone. Grant me your Spirit to return to others what I take in of you.