Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Only Fear Kept Me Alive

     God will work everything for good for those who love Him.
    Too bad I didn't love Him, at least not enough to stop starving myself. Now, surely He was against me, surely now He would beat me down until I became What He Wanted.
    I held the scissors to my wrist and scratched the skin. What would it be like to dig deeper, to splatter cherry-red blood across the white porcelain sink?
    Served everyone right for their careless, cruel words. Served me right, killing such a selfish little prick as myself after only sixteen years. What kind of ass gives up God and family for a skinny body?
    Then I thought of hell. I've never believed heaven is off-limits due to suicide, but I was pretty sure I the Faithless wasn't going to wind up among the faithful.
    I hesitated. Eternal torture didn't sound so pleasant.
    Then I realized that everyone in my community would know. They'd see beyond my straight-A, meek facade into the depths of my selfishness. They'd know I was in hell.
    There would be no going back; even if I survived they'd know. My damp fingers gripped the scissors even tighter.
    In fear is the absence of love.
    And yet, fear kept me alive. Not love, not the faintest thread of hope. Fear.
    O my God, what did You do?
    Fear, where love is absent, but God who is Love still entered.
    God is holy. But the God of Holiness entered unholy fear, used something so dead as fear to keep me alive.
    This even doesn't make sense, and so I think we have a tendency to oversimplify this mystery. Oh, God wanted you to fear.
    Nope. Nopenopenope.
    I don't think God wants one evil thing to befall us. Not one.
    I also don't think He looks at said evil thing like "Oh too bad, but now I've got 'em crawlin' to me!"
    I think maybe He weeps and wails with us, uses every chance to turn evil for good, and where evil seems to win, He promises us This will not be the end.
     This wasn't my only temptation with suicide. The desire flew back many times I seemed to fail throughout high school and college, to be honest. But they weren't more than thoughts until last semester.
    Last semester, in the blackness, I had it planned again. Often.
    This time, love for my family and friends, a faint hope for better times, pulled me back.
    They say everyone must grow. What a strange way to see growth.
    This time, with encouragement from many friends and family, I opened the door. I went to a doctor, who, along with the right meds, family and friends, allowed me a glimpse of heaven's love.
    And I thought that, dare I say, I wanted life again. I don't remember the last time I consistently wanted life, for months on end. There have been many months where I wasn't suicidal, but I'm not sure I wanted life.
    Behold, I am doing a new thing.
    Wanting life is a new thing for me.
    I am thirsty for life.
    But if you're parched and crawling in the dust, if everything you are is naught but skin and bones -
    Keep pressing on, and if you can't, I'm offering you my hand and all I have to carry you. I'll stand, sit, crawl, rest with you. I love you. I'm not giving up on you, no matter what you've done or suffered.
    Not until we see the truth of those words written by Paul two millennia ago: God will work everything for good for those who love Him.

We'll make it, I promise.


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