“Doubt may be dressed in intellectual thought, political treatises, or analytical theories, but at its naked core, doubt is an emotional reaction. Doubt of God is most often preceded by a seeming betrayal or abandonment by God.”
This is my first post where I honestly don’t know how to start. There are so many thoughts to put on one page, but I’ll try to make sense of the jumbled mess that is my mind. For the past few months, I’ve been living in Psalms, and for the last week, I settled down in Ecclesiastes and Job.
Psalm 34:18
‘The Lord is near to the brokenhearted.’
Doubt has the ability to take this happy-go-lucky, optimistic, ‘flower child’ of a girl and turn her into the most despondent, pessimistic, weary person. I’m not saying you can’t be happy for God to ‘draw near to you’, but after this season, I’m convinced God has a special corner of His heart for those who are depressed.
I asked God in September for more of Him; more like demanded more of Him. I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I was hopeful it was going to be awesome……….then came doubt. Expecting to hear from God, I started thinking I was waiting to hear from an imaginary friend. It wasn’t like the cold, analytical doubt that I had experienced in the past from intellect. This was something else. It made me lie awake at night wondering what I would do. It made me hate worshipping and feel silly praying. It made me think about my worth negatively. I actually understood what a friend had told me about committing suicide if God wasn’t real.
I generally believe God is cruel, but my pessimistic “reality” made me paint Him as pure evil.
What kind of God who knows everything still makes man and sets him in the world just so He can have His own personal cheerleading squad? So a few of them get caught up in abortions, slavery, trafficking, wars, and genocide? So what? I’ll just send my precious one and only son to die so that they’re indebted to me forever since He’s perfect. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll just send them to Hell, which may or may not be bloody torture. How could I be first person to see through this sadomasochistic nonsense?
It’s not something I boast about, but I view building walls as a safety measure. If you can keep people out, it doesn’t hurt when they leave. If you keep people out, you can make sure they don’t hurt you before they get around to it. You can choose who to let in certain parts of your soul. You learn that heartbreak can be prevented if no-one is close to your heart. Without thinking, I did the same with God. Assume He’s going to hurt me eventually and keep Him out. My pride doesn’t want to admit that I need anything or anyone. “The safest way to stay supreme in our own estimation is to deny anything above us.” –John Piper
Ecclesiastes 9: 2-3
“It is the same for all. There is one fate for the righteous and for the wicked; for the good, for the clean and for the unclean; for the man who offers a sacrifice and for the one who does not sacrifice. As the good man is, so is the sinner; as the swearer is, so is the one who is afraid to swear. This is an evil in all that is done under the sun, that there is one fate for all men. Furthermore, the hearts of the sons of men are full of evil and insanity is in their hearts throughout their lives.”
This verse brought to mind many of the hypothetical situations people brandish about to prove God is not loving. There are countless situations like these happening around the world, and I argued tirelessly with God.
•What about the baby that is born but dies an infant? Is it loving to send them to Hell?
•What about the person who can’t mentally process how to dress themselves, let alone God? Is it loving to send to send them to Hell?
•What about the child dying of starvation whose focus is on the next meal, let alone worshipping God? Is it loving to send them to Hell?
These situations get me riled up, because according to me, these people are innocent. How is it loving or even just to send the baby who didn’t even have a chance to sin to Hell? How is it loving or just to send the mentally handicapped person who doesn’t even know what the hell “sin” is to Hell? As for the child, well, Mr. I’m God and I know everything, that’s your fault for sending them into that situation in the world?
‘You’re looking at this wrong’-God
‘Gee thanks. Anything else you think you can contribute? Anything else you owe---Wait a minute.’
To the dictionary: Translation--Get your nerd glasses
Owe:
1. To be indebted to the amount of
2. To have a moral obligation to render or offer
3. To be in debt to
4. To be indebted or obliged for
Is…God……. indebted to humanity? To me? Does God have a moral obligation to send every human to Heaven?
The only moral obligation God has is to Himself, and that moral obligation is to sentence all of humanity, including me, to Hell.
I could dress it up in churchy phrases like ‘My pride doesn’t like that’ or ‘my flesh hates that.’
If I’m being honest, I HATE that. I hate that I and everyone I know and love and everyone I don’t know and love deserve Hell simply for being human. Everyone on Earth; all of humanity deserves Hell. Not one of us deserves Heaven. It’s not like there are good people and bad people. It’s not like we’re all innocent until we tell our first lie or spread our first gossip or steal our first loaf. We don’t deserve Hell because of pornography or masturbation or rape or murder or homosexuality. If that we’re true, wouldn’t it be better if we all died before we “sinned our first sin?” Before we legitimately “deserved Hell?”
I deserve Hell because I’m inherently evil.
God doesn’t owe me anything.
Damn.
Just some thoughts,
{Miyah Faith}
‘The Lord is good to those who wait on Him.’ –Lamentations 3:25
Friday, December 23
Monday, December 5
Empty Hugs
Dear World,
Today is a song, the plaintive melody echoing in the expanse of the somber autumn sky. It is a song made for tears and forehead kisses; a musical reminder of death and beauty.
Today, I feel like dressing up, just like the leaves are dressing up and dying a beautiful death.
Today, death has colored my thoughts and dreams a scarlet red. I tell my friends, it is the color of love I dream about rather than the color of blood. My blood. I dream of the day I die as others dream of the day they marry.
Today is a song, and my soul is singing the melancholy tune.
I want to be remembered for my smiles and my hugs, for brightening people’s days though I can never brighten mine. I have this feeling that people will remember the way I die more than the way I lived. Many people think I haven’t a care in the world because I’m always so damn happy.
When is a smile a mask? If you wish you were as happy as you seem, is the smile you wear a mask or a goal? Pessimistic reality battles my optimistic idealism each day, but lately it’s been different.
Reality is winning.
After all, we are all just funerals waiting to happen.
Today is a song, the plaintive melody echoing in the expanse of the somber autumn sky. It is a song made for tears and forehead kisses; a musical reminder of death and beauty.
Today, I feel like dressing up, just like the leaves are dressing up and dying a beautiful death.
Today, death has colored my thoughts and dreams a scarlet red. I tell my friends, it is the color of love I dream about rather than the color of blood. My blood. I dream of the day I die as others dream of the day they marry.
Today is a song, and my soul is singing the melancholy tune.
I want to be remembered for my smiles and my hugs, for brightening people’s days though I can never brighten mine. I have this feeling that people will remember the way I die more than the way I lived. Many people think I haven’t a care in the world because I’m always so damn happy.
When is a smile a mask? If you wish you were as happy as you seem, is the smile you wear a mask or a goal? Pessimistic reality battles my optimistic idealism each day, but lately it’s been different.
Reality is winning.
After all, we are all just funerals waiting to happen.
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