Chronicles of an Imperfect Saint.

Standard

I woke up and saw everything around me in terror. My heart racing over what I had seen, felt and done.

What had I done..? What had I done..?

I felt an unearthly fear grip me. I hear the light growl of a street dog in the distance, I hear the familiar sounds of the night in an unsafe neighborhood at unease with the unseen forces of terror that stalk and prowl, I feel my heart beat racing. Was I going to die today..? Did I have the assurance of salvation..? I had been engaging in a dangerous game of backsliding and grace abuse for the past two to three weeks, had I exhausted God’s patience..? Was murder going to become the way that I encountered God before I was to be led towards the fiery, never ending flames of hell..? I began to search for verses in my memory to combat the overpowering, domineering forces inherent in my mind. I tried to remember past experiences where I had been rescued, saved and comforted. I tried to calm myself and stop feeling what I felt. I did not have any luck… I knew the fear that I was feeling all too well. In my spiritual mind, I tried to discern if it was a spirit, if it was a spirit operating the mention of Jesus would yield a breakthrough in some unseen, mystical and supernatural way. The past few weeks I had been swamped with village visits, personal evangelism, preaching, witnessing, writing, shooting for tv, and testifying of the Lord’s power in the town that I was placed by the Lord. It was one of my greatest spiritual longings coming to life, and it had been coming to life in the greatest possible way… But I felt completely disconnected to it all despite being spiritually empowered and able in the greatest way possible. But the simplest way to put it across to you would be that I felt myself staring at it in unbelief. Not the emotional, overwhelming sort of unbelief. But the suspicious, anxious and unthinking kind where I did not even possess a human spark or capacity to comprehend what was at work in my life at the moment.

I had started to work as an evangelist slash (sub sub) assistant pastor to a Theologian, Pastor and Bible Teacher and despite my fears of the past, despite my fears of getting caught in a wrong situation, and getting caught up with some maniacal, Over Righteous Perfectionist whose bruising words of judgment, criticism and condescension would torment me eternally, I had taken a dive because working for the Lord was what I had been created for, it was the reason that I was alive today and it was the only passion in my life that consumed me 24/7. Prior to this dive I had had three months of fiery tests, tremendous mental trials and financial suffering as I quit my job at a Gospel Channel that I had had the pleasure of shepherding, laboring for and being a part of for two years. In that channel I had had my own tv show, I was popular on account of that show and everywhere I went people began to recognize me. As blessed as that made me feel, I could hardly care less.. It was the joy of ministering to people that I enjoyed, I was a wise man who had suffered endless trials and wounds in my past, I knew the perilous side of popularity and I wanted none of it, I enjoyed people finding a reason to talk to me, apart from that I did not particularly enjoy being known as someone who was a collection of television pixels in many houses.. I wished more to be a man of use to the Lord, effective to Him and absolutely of usefulness to the King of Kings who knew the pitfalls, downfalls and the people type who were rampant in my town.. I have always been more concerned about pleasing God than man.

I had my own individual, unique, God created way of ministering and I would usually get offended when people pointed out legal errors in my style that I had never been very thrilled about perfecting, as I had studied the Bible I knew deeply that the Lord chooses certain people for who they are and for who He had created them to be, but He would fill them with Him and then use them in Holy, awe inspiring Power. I get offended because people want me to be like them, to think like them and to talk like them in a Biblical manner, God has given me a different gifting that I find the most satisfaction in, it has enabled me to do His work in a form and fashion that is more about individual healing, understanding and empathy driven counselling, fiery preaching, expository sermonizing, building up deep personal connections, initiating complete engagement and filled with Holy, inspiring and Godly passion. My leadership was more in tune with my Master, Jesus.. I was a man of the people, I hung out with sinners but I fed them truths about the gospel, I prayed fervently for them(if i’m honest right now, it has been weeks since I have prayed for anyone with my style of time), I tried to bring out the best in them, I encouraged them, I supported them and I loved them like I loved myself, or at least attempted to heroically. I allowed them to be them self and I was wise about their nature, since I observed, studied and understood them in ways that they probably have not had the joy of being accepted. All such abilities come along with my Godly anointing, power and filling. It is the Power of the LORD that has helped me perform things that I am thoroughly incapable of. I was created for a different purpose, I was not created to please men, I was created to please God. I was a man of God, no matter how many times I say it I find it hard to believe and accept.

Growing up I never had a feel for my talents, gifts and uniqueness. I only found myself wounded since I was always overlooked, underappreciated and never recognized.

The worst part about the last few weeks was that I was underfed in my spirit. My prayers had been very distracted, filled with all kinds of fears, fraught with nervous tension, wary of Godly punishment and aloof from Biblical confrontation. I always have observed how the Lord grows sharp in rebuke the further I emotionally disconnect from Him. I enjoy that actually since i’m the exact same way. I know that only love has that quality. But it has taken me time to understand it, since I have always felt personally hurt with punishment since I grew up, a fearful, awkward, shy and self conscious kid. Academically I was poor, teachers rarely praised,admired, acknowledged my existence or even enjoyed my presence… As a matter of fact nobody that I knew acknowledged me, I was unseen, invisible and deemed unworthy. I was not loved for who I was, I was seen for who I was not. I was always at the bottom of the food chain.. words such as weak student, failure, slow learner, inept, foolish and other hurtful words in the Tamil language were bestowed upon me often. I gradually learned to look at myself based on the treatment, the words and the acceptance that I received. This was not frequent, but happened 80 percent of the time. It was always implied though, and my intuition has always been on point.

My parents were often informed of my low grades, and I felt humiliation at being such a poor example of my parents at my first school. I knew my parents story, they had worked so hard to come to where we were at the moment, and here I was ruining their name, their image and their pride. I felt shame about it, but I never talked about it, but it was something that I always felt even though there are tons of negatives about me. Very early on I could pick out social themes around me , one of them was inequality, I could understand why people looked over me, I could understand why they saw dark skin and saw it as something that reminded them of ugliness.., it reminded them of the ditch, the crows and unattractiveness. So you can clearly see the k I couldn’t understand why they still didn’t feel that even such a sort of inferior person, atleast in their eyes .. Still how they felt that such a person did not deserve kindness, respect and love is beyond me.. Culturally people grow up humanistically foolish.. My different world has always enabled me to be deeply humane despite all of my flaws.

So from my narrative you can sense the kind of emotional baggage that I possess in my heart towards being confrontational, controlling, judgmental and being criticized. All these experiences have drained into my nature a kind of individualistic, independence with a protective rebelliousness, where I learned to protect myself through self imposed isolation and emotional distance. I could understand why.. God has always given me deep understanding, but what I struggled, wrestled with and was unable to come to terms with was the question How. How could people disrespect and be so unkind..? How could people kill..? How could people humiliate others and never ask sorry..? How could people be so cruel to somebody else..? How..? How..?

At my first school, Inequality was implied, reinforced and taught consciously and unconsciously, at my second school it was worse. In the Indian education system teachers were allowed to punish, hit and hurt students back in my day. The motive was to make students succeed, I wonder if it has ever accomplished that though. For four long years, I went to a hostel where I encountered this in full force. I had failed 8th grade in my first school, which meant that I had to repeat it once again. Deeply depressed and hungry for a new experience, I asked my mother to enroll me in a school that I felt would make me stronger. Growing up around rich kids, privileged kids and amongst kids who knew how to express themselves with pride, strength and arrogance.. I felt weak, inferior, ugly, unattractive, undesired, left over and untalented. At my next school, my academic and socializing inabilities encountered bullying, teasing, cruel physical punishment, taunting, fights, pride, strength, force and verbal punishment. I was the one who was always punished the most, the one who felt the sickness in the system the most and the one who felt the hurt of others the most, growing up I could never sense anybody have the kind of heart for the suffering like I did. I say that with all humility, since the school that I studied at after failing eight grade implied that one had the license to be arrogant by brute force and be recognized as some sort of man. I can only laugh at the foolishness of all such imbeciles and snobs now, but still I have the humbling, my own pride breaking sense to also reach out with compassion to the bully in the same manner that I reach out to the suffering.

Punishment meant that I was unloved, rebuke meant that I was inferior, I knew that I couldn’t treat the Lord this way, as strong as it made me feel to have the power to stay within protective distance from the Lord’s rod of correction, I knew deeply well that I wouldn’t be able to stand a minute of His distance.., I would self destruct if He were to abandon and neglect me.., I would gladly murder myself if He were to distance Himself away from me forever. I can’t bear His distance, I can’t bear Him not enjoying me, I can’t bear Him being apart from me even though i’m an idiot who forgets things and acts belligerently and disrespectfully. More than seeing God as God, I view Him through the lens of my need.. Chiefly my inner most needs of wanting love at all times, at all costs and during all times. If He were to abandon me, I would revert to my former self, with all its demonic oppression, lies, fears and deep deep anxieties.

It had frightened me to my deepest core. The nightmare ie. But I sighed as I felt the absence of the deep darkness that I had felt as soon as I had woken up. I felt a deep burden lift from my the depths of my soul. The burden of my past and the promise of the future and my human inability to comprehend the power of both unsettled me, I wrestle when the burden of it all gets too much for my fragile human heart to handle. Christ has released me from the prison, the torment, mental suffering, the agony and the mental anguish of my past, but I still struggle to understand the difference. I can feel the presence of familiar strongholds, in my life they were not only based on personal suffering of the academic kind, they were of the highly sensitive kind, they were of the artistic kind, they were rooted to the chaos of a culture blind to the power of life in all its gory, brutal realities, I see too much, sense too much, feel too much and realize too much. I wish that I didn’t know what I know. But I do, and Christ is the only power capable of helping me from such an insane, deep evil at work in the human mind, in the outer fabric, layer, nature and power of reality as it manifests itself in places, people and situations.

Blackness.., blackness possessed the room. I could hear the deep slumbering whimpers of my canine lying next to me. I realized that the Lord had woken me up to pray. I was leaving for a trip, and He always knew how overwhelmed I got in unfamiliar places. He was asking me to pray to Him, He was asking me to rest in Him, to be refreshed in spirit and to talk to Him since He knew how hurt I had been in my last few trips after being ignored, rejected and unpleasantly treated by people. I immediately felt my own confusions stirring, why did I have to ask Him in order to gain it..? Didn’t my Heavenly Father know whatever I wished, required and wanted before I could find words to speak them..? Why did I have to ask Him..? My questions only aroused my deepest confusion, I wouldn’t be able to understand why I felt the way I felt, but I knew that my spiritual man needed to encounter Him. This was my spiritual mind at work, stuff that I can never explain with reason, even though I can if I wish to.

In my nightmare I had encountered a gang of hooligans, who wished to harm me and I had physically assaulted one of them out of self defense. He fell to the floor, bleeding and hurt. In my dream he dies, I immediately run away from that place, alarmed at my act and deeply disturbed by my own viciousness. Prior to this sequence, I had made a friend, and he invites me to a posh, three star restaurant and he has been sacked by that establishment, and I feel protective of him and wish to defend him. I knew that my violent attack in the nightmare was derived from my recent travels.., I had passed through Vellore’s prisons a week ago on route to an all night prayer, and I imagined the evil at work in the cruelty of the system that was godless, perverse and inhuman. I had shuddered at the thought of ending up there, my dream used that fear.., My current ministry also involves that I spread the gospel to the nearby villages that lie in scores all around my town, villages where the demonic Hindutva faction RSS are deeply rooted in. They are well known for using violence as a weapon to assault evangelists and preachers. I naturally feel fearful despite the thick sheet of God’s presence always around me, India is a cruel place for evangelists.., and persecution is a hidden truth.., but that’s the price that one pays for loving Christ.. I find that fear also woven into the nightmare.., I also sense the anger that I had felt in the evening towards a group of young guys at the ground that I played at. Their nature was so proud, haughty, rebellious, self loving and disrespectful.. in a spurt of emotion, I had imagined myself combatting those guys and teaching them some basic manners, this too was present in that dream. Over the past few days, my dreams had elicited fear and danger, these were themes that I was always discerning about in my life, not only as a former prisoner of fear, but as a prisoner of Christ wary of worldly realities that satan wished to preserve at all costs. I felt a spirit of fear at work in that nightmare, but the Lord was speaking more powerfully to me that I was around violent, demonic powers and that I needed to protect myself in His power.

I didn’t need any further prompting. I got off the bed, and opened the door and went to the Hall.

I knew that the city that I was heading to was tremendously difficult to stomach after my powerful experience with the Lord four or so years ago. Four years ago, the city had been my home for the better part of 7 years. In it I had grown up to become the man that I was right now, the city was like my mother.., I learned, grew confident in myself and learned to take charge.. But right now as an artist, writer and evangelist things would be different… I would not only see physical uncleanness, dirt, endless unkind and foul realities.. I would be barraged and assaulted by endless unkind, vile and disrespectful things that would make me sick to my stomach since the Bible is clear that God Himself begins to live within us after we are saved, and the Lord is hurt by a world of unkindness, uncleanness and hate. The thing that would hurt me the most as an evangelist would be the spiritual reality: scores and scores of diverse people groups divided by race, creed, nationality, social standing etc etc walking around having not even the most fundamental knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. The attractiveness of people there would intimidate and confound me, the ease and comfort of people’s confidence would hurt and wound me, the intelligence and ability of people there would make me feel insignificant and useless.. My natural resources dry up the moment I hit its shores. I can only thrive and survive with Jesus power.

Godly power has enabled me to evangelize to most of my former friends in some shape, degree and fashion, all to the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ. I have loads and loads of basketball teammates, friends in petrol bunks, friends working behind the counter of the In and out stores.., watchmen and security guards.., auto drivers, homeless bums, flower sellers, beggars.. In my eyes, much like my Lord, everyone is a friend. I live that out, and I love that it is the way it is. I have always hated limits, rules and boundaries between people. In my life prior to encountering Christ.., I enjoyed conversing with people from different religions, different thinking styles.., I had among my friends.. Homosexuals, transgenders, shady types, bike mechanics, atheists who blasphemed the Lord routinely, Fanatics, people who blatantly did not like me.., but I was intrigued by them even though I have felt hurt on numerous occasions, I still enjoyed their personality, their person and their presence.., I had no thoughts about their sins.., their lifestyle and their mistakes.. In my eyes, I myself struggled with numerous sins, what made me so different from them all..? I still feel the same way.., God has enabled me to love people more powerfully since then.., where I couldn’t comprehend their choices, habits and lifestyle.., as a reformed man of God I can comprehend it.., and I see the staleness that sins create in a human soul. There is no art, no beauty in sin.., it only corrupts, destroys and breaks.., and now I do my best to save, rescue and help people with the living gospel of Jesus Christ which I believe with my life, my full heart and with all my mind.

This is why I love that city so much, it helps me experience people so different from me. I can’t wait to get there despite my natural fears, hesitations and anxieties.

I would like to leave you all finally with a moral from a recent experience that I had with one of my great friends. Part of my personal evangelism ensures that I hang out with tremendously difficult people who have nothing in common with me, but I plunge into camraderie, debate, conversation and endless attempts to win souls over, both to Christ and into a brotherly fellowship with me where I lead them into a deeper knowledge, power and understanding of Jesus Christ. The ending result is that I find myself facing intimidation, heartbreak, I encounter the shallow, nonspiritual nature of men, I encounter tremendous tremendous frustration, embarrassment, shame and awkwardness. I enjoy it deeply despite my well known aversion of any kind of pain. I literally have to stalk and follow people who want nothing to do with me, or with my calling, or with the Lord that I love so dearly in my heart of hearts despite my incredible weaknesses.

After my split from Tv ministry, the Lord paired me up with a friend i’d like to call Captain Wonder, which is his nickname by the way. He and I are worlds apart, but connected both by blood and by faith. He is my brother in Christ and I love him dearly, and affectionately.. But I was having trouble dealing with his way of looking at things recently. I had sent a story of mine that I wanted him to read. I know well how deeply restless his soul is, and how impatient he is, and how being outrageously extroverted is all that he knows. Still I wanted him to know my thoughts, my stories and my soul. I sent him the link to my wordpress account. I had chosen a story that I had written three years ago about a young man in a new city. I had gone through great efforts to send him that link, since finding this particular story meant that I spend half an hour searching through my posts since I have written around 400-500 of them. I also don’t share my works with people, since I know that their insecurity often parades as criticism and insight. Five minutes later, I get a reply from him stating that I used too many commas, full stops and that he couldn’t understand what I meant. Naturally I was hurt, upset and discouraged by his reply, but I wished to overlook it.

A few days passed and then he sent his writings to me. He had had a dramatic encounter at a temple in Thiruvanamalai a few years ago, which is a local religious hotspot for hindu devotees who view it as some sort of mystical shrine of their gods.. Wasting his life around material excess and moral confusion, he felt his soul encounter the truth of Christ in a place as spiritually dead as Thiruvanamalai. That touch had inspired him to walk with Christ, although he was struggling with direction and witness. I went over his written message, I enjoyed its vulnerability, I enjoyed its emotions and I enjoyed its effort. I understood what it meant, I understood also its unspoken emotion. If I had used his same critique about grammar, language and punctuation, his work was a disorderly mess. A casual reader would’ve discarded it the moment he would’ve picked it up. His understanding of the language was as astounding as his complete ignorance of how to use it with power, imagination and conveying a story. His thoughts had no order, it did not have the power to convey what he wished to say, his grammar was as correct as the random order of stuff in a garbage can. His understanding of his profound spiritual insight was as uninspiring as a cold wave of the sea with no color and life… These are observations that speak about the outer nature of things.. Which is the Biblical way.. the Bible points out outer ugliness to correct an inner dysfunction…I did not wish to gloat over my glee at his inability, I was a wounded healer and a preacher who often used both roles to convey scriptural truths. It was not his offensive response to my story that bugged me, it was more than that. I have a fellowship that met regularly on thursdays, where he is an active member. He has supported, provided for and shouldered that ministry from the start. But there were personal attitudes that were very demeaning, controlling, confused and power driven that I wished to help him understand, give him the inspiration to change and draw him closer to Jesus which was my ultimate goal. Working directly with people helps one understand the immense spiritual distance that exists between God and man, and how man often times assumes the greatest things about himself which are often deceptive and untrue.

I called him up and asked him if we could eat outside. He readily agreed. We hit up a local tandoori place and were very soon sinking our teeth into some grilled barbecue chicken, one of the finest in Vellore. I asked him about how things were going, I asked him the condition of his faith and his day. Midway through, in his method of apologizing he opened up about why he couldn’t read it. I asked him if he was ready for a few spiritual insights..? To which he replied that he was. I asked him how he would feel if his hardwork, endless nights of frustration, blood, sweat and tears ended up in a person’s hands and he dismissively cast it aside.. Understanding the response and trying to use familiarity as a way of encountering it, he talked about how he could understand what I was saying, and that he knew why I was saying the stuff that I was saying. Ministry work has helped me see that people often upset by making you feel upset in a way that is very subtle, but avoids an exposition of things that they are rebelling in.

I empathized with his convicting pain, I told him that this was how most of us were like towards the Lord, and that we were so blatantly disrespectful towards Him and His wants but pester and get from Him things that we want. I told my friend that we are all least concerned about the Lord’s feelings but only consumed by our own. I told him as a friend that I myself was an ugly sinner whose good works were like filthy rags, but that Christ enables me serve, love and obey Him. He grew silent, maybe for the first time in decades he learned to see a thing in the eyes of God’s most intense longing for humanity. The Lord makes us to become like Him. He enjoys who we are, but He knows that we can only touch the world if we are like Him.

Friends, I leave you with these stories, personal accounts and discoveries until the next time. God bless you and may you discover the king of Kings and know and understand that He is the ultimate treasure, passion and life worth living for.

Advertisements

Enormity – Short Story

Standard

He was a man haunted by the enormity of what was seen, felt, heard, thought and touched. He saw too deeply, searched too deeply, and craved too deeply.., but what was there to see in the cruel, turbulent and vanishing world..? What was seen disappeared, people disappeared, love disappeared, emotions climactic and cathartic disappeared.., what remained were our souls, and how we can claim we existed. Madness often sought his sensitive soul, it wished to take his soul and fill it with thoughts, moods and emotions that were sick and lost in their
meaninglessness… His soul blurred the lines between the world of stone and the world that was soft and absorbent… A world where life felt and moved like death and pain, any man who can discern the deep pain of death does not belong to this world.., He is closer to heaven than he realizes, and much closer to God and closer still to true vision.

The world’s cruelty, evil and pain remains clear but unseen..but oh when they entered into his intense mind of beauty, harmony and peace, they brought their curse and mind numbing spells along… Peace as still as the resounding still after the breaking waves cast their deep, eternal longings on to the souls of mankind, sitting in blindness on it’s shores … they entered him and they possessed him, and he thrashed like agitated waves unable to recover it’s sanity, like a caged parrot longing for her freedom as she squawked and cried as humans listened to noise, like a tiger experiencing deep sorrow as the cold steel bars hit his face as he attempted to use his strength to bull doze his way past it and run away into the jungle, where his rightful home was.., like a lion captured by men.., his pride stolen, and sold for sheets of money. How cruel were these everyday sights..? How cruel still the hearts of men walking past such cries to free, help and save.

He could not remember outer details, his sensitivity, his gift of being able to feel deeply was given to penetrate deeply into the surface of human life, to feel the intensity of life, to absorb the essence of humanity and it’s anguish and then reason his way out of it’s terrifying unconscious maze, to experience the Universe of the hidden soul and see in it’s splendor the mighty reality of a Divine Creator and to feel specifically what was unseen, unrealized, unheard, sidestepped, thrown aside, hurt, broken and forgotten.

What lay within a man…? Apart from his bones, his blood and his soul..? What murky inner highways, towns and cities exist formed from memories ..?What did experiences and the brutal mirror of reality turn into, did they become swords that stabbed in moments of fear..? The real things did not obey our concepts of them, they were blunt, trauma inducing and indifferent to the suffering, the pain and to the cries of men…, How foolish were men ..? To think that the stone could
feel, to assume that the dead would live.. but he could feel things that he could never seem to possess the vocabulary necessary to explain, or put a finger on and never ever be sure of. They were there, these silent beings..hateful, bitter, murderous deceivers.. searching only to kill, blind and fool him into thinking that they were there to redeem humanity… He felt them every now and then…, sometimes they stared at him through his own eyes as he searched his eyes for something beyond the dull, everyday image of how he aged in the world.. they stared at him through the darkness of this world that he had to cope with a great deal of pain,through the unbearable suffering of humanity’s clear deficiencies, they stared off the tops of temples.., clear in their disguise, yet seductively pleasing to the eye and terrifying in their postures. How long would mankind be deceived by these beings from the world beyond ours..?

But this man tired of experiencing the distress, the pain and the hurt of other men decided to kill himself.., since everything was being murdered, or run over or being hurt knowingly by men enslaved to their own evil. He too wished to extinguish himself up in a great sacrifice, all his life he felt things too deeply, but he knew not that his emotional hurt were the result of his profound inner innocence that remained despite the outer loss to social pressure.

He decided to jump off a bridge, strangely the eerie violence of his own imagination provided for him a great relief for his soul was slowly dying away. He replayed back his life, his great failures, his great inabilities and his great disappointments.., how people never truly seemed to care.., how people walked over him as though he were not there.. how people lived through and around him like he was not alive. As he was about to jump, his soul seemed to wish to perhaps kneel down and perhaps rant a final time to the unseen, invisible decider of all human fate. Like Job, he wished to let Him who is above all know his great inner turmoil, blame Him, hurt Him and then jump to his death.

He knelt down, embarrassed by his neediness despite the inner death of his soul as it prepared itself into the descent of Hell itself. He no longer cared, he was tired of caring and not being appreciated.., yes.., appreciated.., for nobody seemed to care about his presence in this stark world.., Yet he, he felt the great hurt of men forced to beg and roam, he felt the pain of a man exposed to the wiles of the city for the first time., he felt the deep sorrow of a broken heart as a lover rejected her love.., he felt the hurt of entire neighborhoods crying out for peace.., he felt the great sorrow of middle class families torn apart between loans, debts and living in fear of poverty and shame. He felt the pain of slums, huts, of souls trapped inside in mediocrity, trapped in social shame, treated like outcasts, treated like objects meant to be treated badly.., and not like human beings, with souls and hearts.., how cruel have we become..?

Was it that wrong to ask for a shoulder to cry upon..? Was it wrong to want a friend to listen..? Hadn’t he listened countless times..? Loved even as hurt, pain and evil was thrown upon him countless times.? Perhaps the deepest reason for his decision was that he could do no better, he had tried.., he had messed up, fallen down, perhaps he was not good at this human life.., perhaps it was the others who were spoken of as better all his life who deserved a better chance at this thing called life.

It didn’t feel like this divine being called God cared too much for him, he had called Him countless times.. but he was only left with the rejected sound of emptiness.., he felt hurt more by God’s silence than by the weight of all the rejections, pains and discouragements of this sad sad life. Why didn’t God care..?

Didn’t people tell him that only God would care..? That this person called Jesus would be there for him..? He knew that the supernatural in this world was largely hidden underneath men’s minds. He could also sense intuitively the reasons for God’s hiddenness.., but here he was ready to throw himself into eternal torment and hellfire, and he got no reaction, response or even a slight read in his subconscious mind.

He would gladly enjoy Hell, perhaps he would gnash his teeth at the unbearable, unthinkable, terrifying, tremendous pain.., but he would gladly endure it since nobody seem to care.., Nobody. That was far better than this.. than this indifference, that would be better than this echo of inconsideration.. If God did not care.. Perhaps He wasn’t so real after all.

All men were bound to a journey, their choices inevitably crossing the path so covered deeply with directions towards a spiritual destiny that only a few men perceived the great depths of such a call.

But as he knelt, knelt near the side of the bridge, as the cars screamed past him.., he felt a sudden gentleness in the depths of his spirit. It was so fleeting, yet so powerful in the way in which it broke away his burdens and seemed to nurse away at his famished, weary and hurt spirit… His inner spirit with it’s fractures, hurts, wounds and deep brokenness… This wondrous mysterious force seemed to work away at his tremendous darkness and seemed to weave into his tears, bursts of heavenly light, into his broken anguish the healing waters of life herself…, Who was this..? What was this..? He questioned his heart.., He felt a being working away at his heart…, He heard the whisper of a name humanity had called unto for eternity, often mistaking His identity and often times building up images from their own imagination and wisdom. He inquired further, eager to question this being that he had searched for ages, searching in the futility of the outer world and her vast enormity, he strongly felt the name, Jesus being sent to him… Yeshua.., images of a hebrew speaking Jewish Rabbi, Teacher and Healer streamed into his consciousness… His eyes welled up, the tears flowed freely.., what healing..? What kindness radiated from the man..? What gentleness..? How had he never come to this man..? Why had been unable to discern the absolute truth of Godship in this man..? How..?

But he did not care right now, he had been saved… Given life.., breathed into and offered another chance by eternity, by the tremendous majesty of the supernatural’s Creator and by the source and origin of the Universe…, God…, God did care…, He seemed to care a lot… He suddenly had this irresistible desire to share that news with the whole world, how great was his joy…, He ran …., He ran past people and he cared no more…, his heart felt light, radiant and joyful.., He screamed the name Yeshua to everyone and anyone who listened.., Yeshua saved me as I was about to jump off that bridge.. right there.. in front of you all.., Jesus.. yes that’s his name… Please listen to me.., you have to know Him… He is God.., he said to the fools blinded to their lusts by the fallen gods of this world.., but his conviction, his spiritual radiance seemed to penetrate into their hearts…,he would tell them over and over.. that was going to be his life from now.

How does one know..? He just does. It’s so deeply embedded in our psyche to respond to God that we should seriously lose all our fanciful intellectual worship of our own knowledge and Holy Curiosity, because we all will know what it is when we meet it…, either in tragedy or introspection.., We are all being attracted to the magnetic search for peace demanded from our own souls. Why don’t we ever slow down, and truly give God a chance..? Why..?

Empath’s Chronicles

Standard

Young things have a mind all their own.. They really really do.

I always love when movies start. I really really do… It gives off a great sense of adventure and promise… Movies to me are like people,  I am wired to believe that they never end, similarly I assume that people are going to fade away in a form that does not involve pain and suffering …. The movie business, boy do I have a load of thoughts on that topic… I just hate how the movie business only wants the bodies and talents of individuals…  It wants the bodies of beautiful women to further our depraved imaginations into thinking that when they engage in lasciviousness,  it is for our pleasure… I find this vicarious thrill sickening in my imperfect yet renewed heart which has submitted itself to the Lord… I think old people choose young people to marry bcos they want the illusion of being young in some warped, twisted way. I don’t like it when that happens, it’s sick and revolting even though people pretend that it’s all normal and okay.. But then again so many things are far from being okay.

I think that people pay professional shrinks just to hear them talk without interrupting… People get so used to hearing the same things that they stop listening.

Why do people pretend like they have it all together?  Isn’t life going to snatch everything away?  Job, parents, kids.. Wife…!!  And yet they pretend like they know what’s about to happen next?   
It’s all about money in this town..  Survival…  Money.. Rent.. Bills… These are the true realities..  True love..  Soulmates – These don’t exist … They really don’t. God exists though and boy am I glad that I never get tired of Him!! 

Why do people grow up and become so cold and lonely?  Why do women control so much of our interactions?  I hate how much I re-read conversations with women in different voices and emotions trying to decipher some hidden clue of inference that will supposedly be an  “eternal treasure and joy”

Why does it hurt to be vulnerable? How can I switch off this feeling of being absolutely vulnerable at all times?   The older I get the more I see things differently.. Why do people desire each other..?  We all get tired of each other anyway..  don’t we?  What does last in this life then? 

I hate how all that people see are faces..  What about my heart?  My soul? Is your vision only limited to my vision?  I guess that the Lord is going to talk to me when He truly wishes to.. Or when He really wants to…  I don’t mind His approach.. I just want Him to talk to His favorite kid, on this side of the ocean..!  Why can’t I save all the sick, dying and broken people in this world Lord?  All the homeless animals?  All the poor people losing their minds..?  Why can’t I stop war?  Crimes? Poverty?    Prostitution, human negligence?  Trafficking ?  murder ?  merciless killings? 

I hate how forgiveness turns back the blame on myself and checks my conscience and wonders in invisibility about the relative state of all things and about our own inability to be absolutely clean and pure , People say the meanest things when they are angry… they really do…!  

I can’t understand how comfortable people are in who they are…  don’t they have fears?  Insecurities?  Timidity?  Shyness?  I’m seriously beginning to wonder how people can feel so confident when at anytime anything can happen!!  I hate what death does to a person…  I hate how it tears open a person’s soul with grief.. And brings the great treacherous injustice of the world into our hearts as we struggle against its vicious and vile might..! 

My mom doesn’t understand a thing about WiFi or the internet or what an Android app means…  and sometimes I laugh at her like it all means a lot, I hate it when I laugh at my mother…  I don’t deserve such a lazy and careless act..  She sweat blood, sweat and tears for me…  She clothed me… Placed my life before her…  what selfishness has my heart to laugh when my mom hides what her generation has trouble comprehending?  How cruel can I be? 

I feel sorry for people a lot…  I really do,  I just cry for them…  I hurt for them…  I pray for them…  the good Lord made my heart to be open and not closed to the world and it’s sufferings. I struggle in weakness against the might of my high sensitivity…  But the Lord has crafted me to bring Glory to Himself. I write stories about girls with whom I had chances with, or spent my life around with but never personally clicked… but they later found someone else.. And I roar and heave with all my anguish and mature sadness even as my pen weaves grand feel good dramas when my heart was broken so many times by decade old infatuations…!

I studied in this college where I felt invisible, where I was invisible… Nobody talked to me, it didn’t matter to them if I would’ve died right before their very eyes they still would’ve been so enamored of their great significance and privileges…  No girl ever opened her heart to me when u was there… I longed so deeply and lovingly towards my muses who were happily oblivious of my affections… I was always forgotten…  sometimes when I laugh at my ma and tease her I remember the pain of being made to feel all of that, and I grow angry at myself and start cursing myself. I still remember how much I hated myself… I can’t be like those flaky, pretensive scoundrels to my ma… She means the world to me.

The Artist within – A few thoughts

Standard

I’m an artist… I repeat that word to myself constantly because I often feel the other way about it. You know , like maybe.. ‘I am not all that I proclaim myself to be’… type, My shyness like the striped butterflies that I obsessively chronicle and observe is self content and blissfully oblivious of the outside world… But as endearing as it is to feel that way it can get in the way of my assertiveness or lack thereof in plenty of social circumstances… , Password – Humble.. Code word accepted… Beast Mode activated.

I have this syndrome where I have multiple notepad documents open whenever I am typing out some grandiose though of mine that craves my artistic emotions. I write multiple stories sometimes, I get crazy and write off of instincts… I would be in a desperate infatuation oriented romedy in one place, and in the other I would be ranting about how Godfather’s director did no justice to the characters in the novel…, Except of course for the Characters of Vito Corleone, Sonny Corleone and Tom Hagen, now their acting and character inhabitation was tight… not to mention grand, delightful, imitation worthy and memorable. I wonder how they can act as people so different from their real life characters, actors do all kinds of things on stage and I often create a complex understanding of how they can go about doing such things and feats. Maybe there is a method to the madness, maybe it’s something that they learnt in acting school or maybe it is just the expression of a God given talent… Which creates my next fabulous question.., Why does my Favorite Supernatural Being gift individuals with talents to entertain that seems to attract them to the great Sodom and Babylon of this Millenium…? How come they tend to land up in Satanic worshipping, Glamor oozing, Free spirit engaging leading straight upto Hell’s finest Mansions – Hollyweird.. I’m sorry I meant Hollywood is something I will never now.. Welcome folks to Hollywood- The Greatest Entertainment show on Earth, Payment Needed.. Pay with your soul and please deposit your former and current moral ethics at the entrance please.. Now feel free to sell your soul to the Devil as he uses you to perform things that you promised you would never do, and do roles that you thought you would never enroll yourself in…! You still got hope.. , Yeah.. I know you routinely mock and scorn at Him and use Him as a cuss word in your glorious works of lies.. But His name is Jesus.. just call Him won’t ya.. when you’re not mimicking grand dialogues about self expression and discovering your hidden self.. Call Him when your ex who promised you that he would love you forever dumped you for somebody younger.., Call Him when your addicted to those shiny pills that made you forget the madness of Show business… You still got hope.

Great talents only create a more fonder love and affection within me for their Creator…, What a maddening, mystical and inscrutable Supernatural being my Heavenly Father is most of the times. I still have no earthly measure for the complex creativity prowess of the Universe’s Absolutely Greatest Artist… Yes, I mean God. What possessed the heart of the Universe to Create terrifying, tummy crawling Pythons who inspire only horror and terror.. and also create beautiful, winding rivers that cascade off as they plunge below hundreds of metres into an underlying pool of fresh water… It’s funny how water seems to always flow, seeking paths always…, Nature is so profoundly artistic and deep that I find myself always joyful and upbeat that there are still things that don’t destroy hope, sanity and mental wellbeing. I am thankful for it everyday and that’s why I try to sneak to my Garden or to the lonely Garden behind my Old Office and spend a few moments in solitude and get my deepest, inner nature into silence.. I drop a drop of prayer into the still lake and feel the ripples, the pages of my soul opened.. My true animal awakens and strolls outside of the cave.. Far away from my Masks, My Hectic life and My Restlessness… I need it desperately and deeply.

I have an intense urge to create, I often create complex stories from a single reaction. It’s like the words, the characters and the dialogues were in there all along, and all that it needed was this tiny, tender little spark and wala, out pours this magnificent piece of literary imagining that gives me the impression that it really, truly happened. I can’t still grasp much of the fine sensations of the human mind… , I find the human mind, the soul, the spirit and the heart fascinating topics and resources of study… I am always poking myself, trying to gain new insights about my inner philosophies and trying to plunge into the depths of my psyche…, The inner world, and the way in which it rearranges and deals with specific inputs is like a torch in the deepest caverns, I enjoy reliving my competitive moments where I bled, sweat and played with ferocity are replayed with narcissistic joy and I enjoy my own heroic glory… I promise to create more of such moments… I want to test myself more, challenge myself more… To see if I am capable of doing what seems so confidence draining, fear inducing and terror inspiring. I am an artist because I find art in life, I find art in relationships, I find art in the tragedies that happen to me.. Be it an unreturned affection from someone that I may have pined away for centuries, or be it a grumpy, bitter and intense conflict over something as stupid as a loose comment… I am alive in the deepest parts of me, I may not always recognize what I see in my heart or in my mind, or put a word to certain feelings that defy my vocabulary… but I am in love with the beauty of my life.. With my thoughts, with my faith and how it soars in the spiritual dimensions opened by God’s willing joy… I find more ground in being an artist now chiefly because of who I am in Christ… Alive by being soaked in the rivers of Jesus and having the joy to unravel what that means in my current life and geographical location- I am a citizen of the world in Christ – I am one of His Ambassadors, Free from who I always feared I could never be.., I am fine with who I am, of where I have ended up, and fine with what I have been given and asked to take care of.. I am not afraid anymore of getting people to accept, love or want me…I am cool with whatever they choose to give.. If it is blunt, rude, angry and bitter, misguided rage… I am okay with it.. I am here to listen.. to understand.. or if it tends to wound my spirit.. change, adapt, evolve and use it to guide me to a higher level of consciousness…, If it is not feeling the same intense way that I tend to feel when I impulsively jump into something that I may have the pleasure of encountering for a few fractions of a second…, I have come to accept that.. It is okay..It has helped me in my growth as an Artist who writes.., who observes, enjoys and delights in whatever God has allowed for that day… I try to find contentment with whatever little I have. The Simple life, with my love for gardens, lonely abandoned places lush with trees and understanding with Patience the words of the Bible… and Praying into levels, depths and dimensions that I have never experienced are more than I can ask for… This is me right now.. Dear Future me.. This temporary contentment will change in a minute, the world of the mind does not thrive on order, but on chaos and in creating an artifical reflection of the senselessness and hopelessness of this world in one’s soul, heart, mind and thoughts… But, I am a Fighter… A Warrior who kneels and a Watchman of my flock… I am alive and well.. Until Next Time.