Excerpt from Letter to Luther

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I’ve broken down countless times in between that run-in with you and now. I’ve cried so much I couldn’t cry the pain out anymore and can only stare into space in a state of numbness and wonder what’s wrong with me. No doubt much has happened the past couple of years to cause me that magnitude of pain, but I also know part of the torment is my own doing. I’ve been letting myself do as I please much too frequently and have, in a manner of speaking, allowed the childish behavior of my own to perpetuate unchecked and do as I fancy according to my willful nature. The result is chaos and utter breakdown of sanity, not to mention the depleting of any spiritual input I’ve had prior to this phase. I sleep but I am not rested. I awake with the same burden and in the same state of being burnt, emotionally and spiritually.

On Sunday it reached some kind of a new low. I was serving on the worship team as vocalist and in the middle of worship, I stopped singing because I couldn’t lie to myself or to God – the words were mere utterances devoid of any conviction, and I didn’t want to cheat anybody. Thank God for the two other vocalists, so my sudden silence wasn’t too obvious or disruptive. That afternoon, I was blessed to be rescued by a dear friend from my cell group. Though she had intended to spend some time alone, she conceded to spend the afternoon with me, and through our chats, the answers I’ve been searching for (or in another way of saying, clinging with dear life onto the sliver of hope that they might appear) came, quietly, steadily, like a trickle through a crack in the stonewall.

Sometimes we expect God to come through in large, booming ways that are hard to miss. Often, I have found that He likes to come unexpectedly, with no pomp nor flare, like a friend that has been present all along, creeping up upon us and over-taking gradually until we find ourselves immersed in His grace.

I have been reborn, once again, and it seems this business of following Jesus is a matter of dying and finding new life again every day, not through wisdom or persuasion or any product of man, but by the cross and by the living waters that he offered to the Samaritan woman at the well. I am despised like she was, but my despicableness puts me in the very position necessary to receive His grace, and that grace I daily learn and relearn, like life blood that needs to be renewed with each pump of the heart.

I am weak – I now know that in a way deeper and truer than I’ve every known previously, and that is a good place to be.

The Spirit in me breathes by holiness, consecration, sanctification and purity, for it is no lesser than the Spirit of God that lives in me.

My old nature strains in the exact opposite direction, but thanks to the saving grace of God through His Son Jesus Christ, I no longer have to live as a slave under that bondage.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Along similar lines, a friend shared this, “That’s the best place to find God. At wit’s end.”

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