I am about to begin a new chapter in my life. A year ago, I was barely treading water in a sea of depression and grief, living day to day, hour to hour, often wrestling with anger, angst, and fear of the future. It is amazing to me where I am today. I have hope and purpose. I not only believe that intellectually, but I feel it too. I feel good. I haven't felt "good" in a long time. I have been wrestling with God to get peace over my own life ever since my father died. As I turn the corner onto this new road He's sent me traveling, I have a sense of peace, a sense of readiness for the next thing in my life, and for what God will do in time. If you've been through any intense grief, you probably know what it's like to have no sense of the future, no sense of hope, the weight of deep sorrow and regret for everything bad that's happened wrapped around you all the time. It consumes your thoughts, your feelings; it drains your energy physically and emotionally.
Sometimes we question our faith. My faith generally remained sure. I believed God would be God whether I liked it or not. I was mad at Him, very very mad. But I have worked through that multiple times with Him and He still loves me. Regardless of what I felt, I didn't change my mind about what I thought. Yes, I wrestled with the questions of why and how and for what, but that didn't change how I ultimately viewed God. The reason it didn't change my view is because my view is based on His Word. I know that's becoming less and less popular in our culture, to believe the Bible, but if you actually read the thing, you'll find some incredibly striking claims about God, like the idea that THE Word (divine) became flesh (human) (John 1). Hey, you might even realize who God is and how much He loves you.
The bible says a lot about how God feels toward us. But it's also clear that He is not ruled by His feelings. Jesus said His Word will stand forever. I believe His feelings are based on His thoughts. So are yours. Post-modern society tells us that feelings determine truth. They don't. Feelings can be sin just as much as thoughts can be. Truth determines feelings. That's how God decided it would be. So much so that He said heaven and earth would pass away, but that His Word would stand forever (that's eternity!). So while us ridiculous Christians are putting our faith in something that's concrete, something that doesn't change, the rest of the world is laughing at us and calling us foolish because of it.
I say all that because I was thinking today that I have to give God credit for bringing me through the past year and a half, for restoring me to hope and goodness. It's Jesus, the living Word of God, that has been the source of the truth that has changed my feelings about life. I realize that some people, probably many, will think that's utterly ridiculous, but I won't give another explanation for it. Jesus is it. He is the only reason we exist. He is the source of all life and peace.
Till next time,
Jeremy
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Friday, August 19, 2011
My Father's Son
"He was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not."
John 1:10 (KJV)
Do we ever know anything before we lose it?
On the way home tonight, as I was praying, I began to think of my father and just how much I miss him. I was moved to tears as I realized that until I lost him, I didn't know just how much of me was wrapped up in him. He was my daddy, the man on earth to whom I bear resemblance in my biological design. But the scripture says that I also bear resemblance to my Father in heaven. I am not, and cannot be me without my earthly father.
And I believe that we are not, and do not also exist, without our Father in heaven. Only, even as he created us in His image, we do not, and have not recognized him as such. He, as Jesus, was born on the earth, taking on our distinctly human image and displaying the glory (the distinction of being GOD) of THE Father in heaven as though he were the ONLY one "begotten" of the Father (John 1:14). In other words, it should have been obvious he was God. Forgive me if I'm getting this wrong, but we, also, were begotten (created) of the Father. Originally. We lost that when Adam fell prey to the Devil's deception and chose sin. Because sin entered, we became dead in it and Satan became our father (John 8:44). (I believe Satan's goal was to steal us from the Father, just as he did the stars of heaven {angels} when he fell [Revelation 12:4]). Jesus came so that we who believe on him would again become sons of God (John 1:12; 1 John 3:8).
So this all leads me daringly to the question, would we really know our Father if we had not lost Him? Honestly, I don't like that question, nor do I have an answer to it. Maybe it's just a bad question. But seriously, I hate evil. I hate hurt. I hate what I've had to go through and what you've had to go through. But for some reason, God has allowed it, and set himself apart from it as good. Then, He has asked us to choose. Seems too easy, really... Nah, maybe "simple" is a better word. The gospel is simple (2 Cor. 11:3). Not easy, but simple.
"But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name: Which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God." ~ John 1:12-13, emphasis mine ~
John 1:10 (KJV)
Do we ever know anything before we lose it?
On the way home tonight, as I was praying, I began to think of my father and just how much I miss him. I was moved to tears as I realized that until I lost him, I didn't know just how much of me was wrapped up in him. He was my daddy, the man on earth to whom I bear resemblance in my biological design. But the scripture says that I also bear resemblance to my Father in heaven. I am not, and cannot be me without my earthly father.
And I believe that we are not, and do not also exist, without our Father in heaven. Only, even as he created us in His image, we do not, and have not recognized him as such. He, as Jesus, was born on the earth, taking on our distinctly human image and displaying the glory (the distinction of being GOD) of THE Father in heaven as though he were the ONLY one "begotten" of the Father (John 1:14). In other words, it should have been obvious he was God. Forgive me if I'm getting this wrong, but we, also, were begotten (created) of the Father. Originally. We lost that when Adam fell prey to the Devil's deception and chose sin. Because sin entered, we became dead in it and Satan became our father (John 8:44). (I believe Satan's goal was to steal us from the Father, just as he did the stars of heaven {angels} when he fell [Revelation 12:4]). Jesus came so that we who believe on him would again become sons of God (John 1:12; 1 John 3:8).
So this all leads me daringly to the question, would we really know our Father if we had not lost Him? Honestly, I don't like that question, nor do I have an answer to it. Maybe it's just a bad question. But seriously, I hate evil. I hate hurt. I hate what I've had to go through and what you've had to go through. But for some reason, God has allowed it, and set himself apart from it as good. Then, He has asked us to choose. Seems too easy, really... Nah, maybe "simple" is a better word. The gospel is simple (2 Cor. 11:3). Not easy, but simple.
"But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name: Which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God." ~ John 1:12-13, emphasis mine ~
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Picking Up the Pieces
My brother and I got together at my house this weekend to attempt to finish going through Dad's stuff. My father was a pack-rat, probably nearing hoarder (not really), but he kept a lot of things organized, or just stored in boxes in the basement. He had a ton of knick-knacks and doo-dads displayed everywhere, and his walls were covered with framed art and pictures. This has been the bulk of what we had left to work through. It's been a year and a half now and unfortunately, this hasn't felt any easier to go through than it was to begin with.
Our weekend began on a high note, with us sorting through the myriad of tools my father owned, nothing big, just what would fit in a couple of tool chests. But my father being who he was, he kept tools that were probably 80+ years old that would have belonged to my grandfather. We laughed at some of the useless items we ran across from 19-forever ago. Like a nail biter (?) (removes the nail head) that didn't close all the way. Old rusty wrenches. A bunch of small trinkets that I don't even know the use for. It was humorous, and we both ended up with some useful items that we enjoyed negotiating to get.
It's been a nice thing that I only have my brother in this picture, as opposed to multiple siblings, because we both have varied interests and desire for different things. We have only wrestled for a small handful of items over the course of time, but haven't really fought over a single one. Until last night, when I decided to take up issue with some valuable stuff and got offended hastily instead of discussing my concerns calmly. My brother didn't know what hit him. I admit I was a complete jerk, so he was immediately on the defensive, and there we were, duking it out (verbally) over any number of things from the past year and a half we could think to drum up. It really was probably ridiculous, but we couldn't help but be fueled by emotion because of what we'd spent the last 2 days doing. Ultimately, I wasn't really arguing because I wanted more stuff, but I sure felt terrible when I realized that I was that person we all baulk at that raises issue over something so insignificant as a few dollars. In the end, is any amount ever worth the relationship it gets in the middle of? I really could have handled that better.
Well, I got my point across, and in turn, my brother was so hurt by the exchange that he just wanted to leave my house and throw in the towel on the whole process. Boy did I feel tiny. You see, we have been very thankful for and to each other that we haven't had a true fight over any of dad's stuff, that he left without direction for us to deal with. And after last night, I realized that my brother and I would lay down every last bit of everything just to keep each other, and certainly to have dad back.
I love my brother to pieces, and I'm incredibly proud of him because he lost his daddy too. I hate what this loss has done to us individually, but collectively we've stuck together and we will work to keep it that way. As for the stuff, it just has to be gone through and there's really no way to avoid the hurt we both feel as we comb through essentially what is left of our father. He left us no opportunity for closure, and we are painfully mindful of that with every picture, every knick-knack, every plate, and every tool that we touch and assign new ownership to.
Our weekend began on a high note, with us sorting through the myriad of tools my father owned, nothing big, just what would fit in a couple of tool chests. But my father being who he was, he kept tools that were probably 80+ years old that would have belonged to my grandfather. We laughed at some of the useless items we ran across from 19-forever ago. Like a nail biter (?) (removes the nail head) that didn't close all the way. Old rusty wrenches. A bunch of small trinkets that I don't even know the use for. It was humorous, and we both ended up with some useful items that we enjoyed negotiating to get.
It's been a nice thing that I only have my brother in this picture, as opposed to multiple siblings, because we both have varied interests and desire for different things. We have only wrestled for a small handful of items over the course of time, but haven't really fought over a single one. Until last night, when I decided to take up issue with some valuable stuff and got offended hastily instead of discussing my concerns calmly. My brother didn't know what hit him. I admit I was a complete jerk, so he was immediately on the defensive, and there we were, duking it out (verbally) over any number of things from the past year and a half we could think to drum up. It really was probably ridiculous, but we couldn't help but be fueled by emotion because of what we'd spent the last 2 days doing. Ultimately, I wasn't really arguing because I wanted more stuff, but I sure felt terrible when I realized that I was that person we all baulk at that raises issue over something so insignificant as a few dollars. In the end, is any amount ever worth the relationship it gets in the middle of? I really could have handled that better.
Well, I got my point across, and in turn, my brother was so hurt by the exchange that he just wanted to leave my house and throw in the towel on the whole process. Boy did I feel tiny. You see, we have been very thankful for and to each other that we haven't had a true fight over any of dad's stuff, that he left without direction for us to deal with. And after last night, I realized that my brother and I would lay down every last bit of everything just to keep each other, and certainly to have dad back.
I love my brother to pieces, and I'm incredibly proud of him because he lost his daddy too. I hate what this loss has done to us individually, but collectively we've stuck together and we will work to keep it that way. As for the stuff, it just has to be gone through and there's really no way to avoid the hurt we both feel as we comb through essentially what is left of our father. He left us no opportunity for closure, and we are painfully mindful of that with every picture, every knick-knack, every plate, and every tool that we touch and assign new ownership to.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
This Side of Suicide
Wow, I've managed to post nothing for a month now. Guess we're heading into the business of Fall. Sometimes I wish our entire year felt a little more balanced, but either way I'm excited for the near future.
I want to talk a little bit about what it's like on this side of losing someone to suicide. I was talking to a friend the other day and said "I just feel like the world started over when I lost my dad. Everything is different." He asked "how so?" And I found myself in a bit of a quandary. I'm not sure that I can explain it sufficiently, but I'll give it a shot.
Going back to the day that I received the news that my father had taken his life, the reaction I had felt much like exactly what you see in movies or television when someone dies and the survivor falls to the floor in utter shock and disbelief. They may completely break down right then, or stare into space for a while and break down later. It's one thing I think the media tends to get right as far as it parallels real life. That was my reaction - my world immediately fell apart. I was momentarily breathless. Everything changed in a profound way. In fact, the moment of taking in that news was something I tried for months to relive and replay in my head over and over and over. That probably sounds a bit odd if you haven't experienced it, but I figured out that it had to do with just how much that moment changed my life. I needed to understand exactly what happened and at the same time accept the reality of it. And that took a long time. It had all just happened too fast. An analogy, for better or worse, that I could use here is that of a horizon. As the sun sets, the horizon is a clear line that separates day from night. Day and night are starkly different. There are qualities of each that the other does not share, though they are related. This was a dividing line for me, something that separated my life into two distinctly different things.
The differences are probably more internal to me than they would be externally to others. My attitudes are different, they are more defined, and I feel a little less easy-going. My opinions have sharpened. My view of the world is probably a little more pessimistic. But my faith and conviction about who God is is stronger than it's ever been. By the same token, my belief in who Satan is is also stronger. The amount of energy I have to put into various things has changed. It's more important to determine my priorities for actions, thoughts and interactions with other people each day. I don't have the same patience I used to have. I'm more cynical. I want things more to the point and with less fluff.
You know, I'm also more concerned with, or at least aware of, whether or not I have a loving influence and Godly witness in the lives of those around me. Why? Because I firmly believe that Jesus Christ is responsible for my life and existence, and for getting me through tragedy, and I have to live for that or there's no point. That may scare some of you, and I think it should. No, I don't really want you to be afraid. I want you to realize that Jesus taught us that if a man (anyone) builds his house on sand, it will fall when the storm comes, but the one who builds his house on the rock will be safe in its foundation (Matthew 7). I have looked death in the face and determined that the only reason to live is Christ. My house fell! It was built on love of music and love of church and love of games and love of family and love of pleasure and love of creativity and love of being loved, and the list goes on. I had to determine whether or not my new foundation would be built of rock on THE rock. That doesn't mean those other things don't exist, but they are the walls and floors and ceilings, not the foundation. Neither does that make me less sinful, but it makes me more aware of my sin. We as God's people spend too much time building and motivating our lives by things that mean absolutely nothing in the grand scheme. The only thing that God has said will stand forever is HIS WORD (Matthew 24). Folks, that is Jesus. Read John chapter 1.
Alright, I'll stop preaching! :) I digress...
So at this point, I'm still not sure I have or can sufficiently explain it, but I do know that most survivors of suicide feel this way at some point or another, or all the time even. It really does feel like the world, my world, started over on February 13th, 2010. It will NEVER be the same as it was before that date. It is, unfortunately, the most profound and confounding thing I've ever experienced.
Till next time,
Jeremy
I want to talk a little bit about what it's like on this side of losing someone to suicide. I was talking to a friend the other day and said "I just feel like the world started over when I lost my dad. Everything is different." He asked "how so?" And I found myself in a bit of a quandary. I'm not sure that I can explain it sufficiently, but I'll give it a shot.
Going back to the day that I received the news that my father had taken his life, the reaction I had felt much like exactly what you see in movies or television when someone dies and the survivor falls to the floor in utter shock and disbelief. They may completely break down right then, or stare into space for a while and break down later. It's one thing I think the media tends to get right as far as it parallels real life. That was my reaction - my world immediately fell apart. I was momentarily breathless. Everything changed in a profound way. In fact, the moment of taking in that news was something I tried for months to relive and replay in my head over and over and over. That probably sounds a bit odd if you haven't experienced it, but I figured out that it had to do with just how much that moment changed my life. I needed to understand exactly what happened and at the same time accept the reality of it. And that took a long time. It had all just happened too fast. An analogy, for better or worse, that I could use here is that of a horizon. As the sun sets, the horizon is a clear line that separates day from night. Day and night are starkly different. There are qualities of each that the other does not share, though they are related. This was a dividing line for me, something that separated my life into two distinctly different things.
The differences are probably more internal to me than they would be externally to others. My attitudes are different, they are more defined, and I feel a little less easy-going. My opinions have sharpened. My view of the world is probably a little more pessimistic. But my faith and conviction about who God is is stronger than it's ever been. By the same token, my belief in who Satan is is also stronger. The amount of energy I have to put into various things has changed. It's more important to determine my priorities for actions, thoughts and interactions with other people each day. I don't have the same patience I used to have. I'm more cynical. I want things more to the point and with less fluff.
You know, I'm also more concerned with, or at least aware of, whether or not I have a loving influence and Godly witness in the lives of those around me. Why? Because I firmly believe that Jesus Christ is responsible for my life and existence, and for getting me through tragedy, and I have to live for that or there's no point. That may scare some of you, and I think it should. No, I don't really want you to be afraid. I want you to realize that Jesus taught us that if a man (anyone) builds his house on sand, it will fall when the storm comes, but the one who builds his house on the rock will be safe in its foundation (Matthew 7). I have looked death in the face and determined that the only reason to live is Christ. My house fell! It was built on love of music and love of church and love of games and love of family and love of pleasure and love of creativity and love of being loved, and the list goes on. I had to determine whether or not my new foundation would be built of rock on THE rock. That doesn't mean those other things don't exist, but they are the walls and floors and ceilings, not the foundation. Neither does that make me less sinful, but it makes me more aware of my sin. We as God's people spend too much time building and motivating our lives by things that mean absolutely nothing in the grand scheme. The only thing that God has said will stand forever is HIS WORD (Matthew 24). Folks, that is Jesus. Read John chapter 1.
Alright, I'll stop preaching! :) I digress...
So at this point, I'm still not sure I have or can sufficiently explain it, but I do know that most survivors of suicide feel this way at some point or another, or all the time even. It really does feel like the world, my world, started over on February 13th, 2010. It will NEVER be the same as it was before that date. It is, unfortunately, the most profound and confounding thing I've ever experienced.
Till next time,
Jeremy
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