I stared at this post for 20 minutes before I was brave enough to click “publish.”
I can’t say that I didn’t know it was happening. It just chose to ignore it or rationalize it. I was tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of doing the hard things–tired of making the hard decisions. Life was overwhelming. Wasn’t this His fight anyhow? So I slowly stopped. I stopped making the hard decisions. I stopped doing the hard things. I became religiously reckless.
I mean, wasn’t I a leader? Hadn’t God placed me where I was? Doesn’t that mean something? I mean I have to be doing ok, right?
I stopped wrestling the hard battles. I began to let the little things go. And the fire inside me that once had been ablaze began to die down. And it was easier to let it go. I still held up the facade of the person everyone thought I was. But soon enough it began to slip. Inevitably, imperceptibly, I began to shut out parts of me. I became cold. I was dying. Don’t get my wrong, every now and then I did do my spiritual duties, but for the most part, thing that scared me the most, was that I began to no longer care.
It seemed like the devil began attacking me on all fronts. Things that I had never cared about suddenly seemed very, very attractive. And in my weakened condition, my fight against them was weak–very weak. Granted, I still justified it because I wasn’t doing anything really bad. I mean, I was still a pretty good person.
I was dying. And I didn’t want to admit it. No one knew. But He did. And He didn’t give up on me. My bones were drying.
(Part 2 next week.)
(Spoiler alert: If you’re where I was, you’re not hopeless. I promise.)
“And the hand of the Lord was upon me and carried me out in the spirit of the Lord, and set me own in the midst of the valley which was full of bones, And caused me to pass by them round about: and, behold, there were very many in the open valley; and lo, they were very dry. And He said to me, ‘Son of man, can these bones live?’ And I answered, ‘O Lord God, thou knowest.” – Ezk. 37:1-3