The Gospel of Weird

If my own happiness is my chief goal, then I miss it, and I lose my life, even while trying as hard as I can to save it from death, and from pain. What kind of a man am I, who clings to his own desperation harder than anything else?

A normal one. But this is not my destiny. This is not the destination. This is a piece of the journey.

It’s a piece that sucks, but it is so very necessary, and so I squeeze every last drop of learning I can get out of it. I cry to You with all of my strength, and I pour myself out into this place You have allowed me to get melted into.

I choose to trust that You are love, and that love is what lies on the other side of all…this.

I choose to believe in Your Word. I keep it close to my heart at all times, to the best of my ability. I meditate in it. I make it the focal point of all study. It lies at the center of what I have in this physical world that I can know that I know that I know has been given to me by You.

Through trial and error, I learn to rightly divide it.

Through practice and patience, I learn to realize its promises.

For they are Yours.

As am I.

Nothing can change this. Though I thrashed and spun, You kept me close. You never left me, though I was certain so very many times that surely you finally had, after all. I saw the whole mess as being proof of my worthlessness, but it was intended, at the last, to become surety of your faithfulness. I let You go, but You held on. You wouldn’t let me die. You held me the whole entire time. You carried me.

I can’t even stand it. It’s too awesome. You’re way, way too awesome.

Sounds almost too good to be true, right? But that’s kind of what the word gospel was coined in order to express.

Do not give up. Press on.

And here I am, and here You still are. We travel together, as intended at last. Our friendship is almost weird. This glowing power of absolute life that wells up inside me and makes joy overflow in the midst of raw, unlimited pain…I mean, this whole thing is super weird.
Just random thoughts.

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