Free Write

"I don't want to change the world
I just want to leave it colder
Light the fuse and burn it all
Take the path that leads to nowhere" ~Breaking Benjamin

I have a goal right now, to write until I have no words left. That might be sooner than you'd think, since I can't seem to find any words to start with. Maybe some more Breaking Benjamin...

"I will not bow, I will not break
I will shut the world away
I will not fall, I will not fade
I will take your breath away...
And I'll survive, paranoid
I have lost the will to change."

I refuse to give in, I refuse to give up...how much will that refusal cost me? And while I'd like to say I'll never change, I think we all know how true that would be. All the things about myself that I have always wished would stay the same have changed, and of course the things about me I despise have remained. 'Tis the way of life, I suppose.

"How long can I fight this?
How long 'till I fall?"
"I can't run from the shadows
From what's in my mind
No matter how fast I run
I can't leave them behind"

I used to pray a lot. Sometimes, I even thought God might answer. It was the lack of any response on his part, ever, that first drove me from Christianity. Then, of course, the more I considered it, the more I became convinced of its falseness. But that was after I had already rejected it. Beforehand, I looked at a God who promised love, who called himself my Father...who also ignored every plea for help, who (being in control of and having planned for everything that happens) chose for my life to not only be utterly destroyed, but to stay that way for nearly a decade. I am still trying to rebuild it, in fact. People tried to write this off as man's free will - leaving me a God either unwilling or unable to intervene in the world. They like to talk of man's free will as if it is this inalienable facet of his being that is never (speaking in the Scriptural traditions, obviously) overwritten by an omnipotent God. The Bible itself shows that not to be true. And so I looked at God, and rejected him not because (at the time) I didn't believe he existed, but because I believed he did and was an absolute jerk. It was only after that, as I thought and read and considered more, that I came to realize that the Bible was too riddled with logical inconsistencies (not to mention its historical failings) to ever be a valid source for a true religion. Given that all we think of as "God" is based on the Bible, I therefore rejected that God (at least as I had been raised to consider him) actually existed. I'm not denying that there may be a Creator (or creators), or even something similar to what is currently called "God," but the God of the Judeo-Christian Bible is a myth.

I have the feeling I will take a lot of flack for that last paragraph. Fortunately, I don't care. This blog is, essentially, my journal, and while I am willing (and perhaps foolish) enough to share, I don't really give a damn what anybody else thinks about it. This is, of course, why I'm not allowed comments (unless I post this and forget to turn them off, in which case ignore this sentence), although you are free to email me.

You know what? Talking about the faith I used to have isn't really doing me any good. It isn't doing any harm, either, but it is pointless, just words on a page. Then again, I guess it serves the purpose of keeping my mind focused on something. That's kind of a losing battle, though, so I'll move on to what I originally wanted to make words about. Yes, I know this is already longer than most of my blog posts; it was just a really long rambling intro. Hush.

It feels odd to crack jokes when all I really feel capable of doing is staring at a blank journal page and then eventually (if I'm lucky) burst into tears. (In case you were wondering, I won't be lucky. Tears are, for the most part, a luxury I am not afforded. They tend to provide some measure of healing, and my depression does not allow that, not now at least.) But I keep writing year after year, in hopes that something will change.

I find myself forgetting that I had a few months (all to brief) where the depression was (for lack of a better term) in remission. It hasn't been that long ago, but even so I find it hard to remember what freedom tasted like, and what is this hope of which you speak? I was foolish to think that, for no apparent reason, a decade of depression would just up and walk away. I guess that is what hope is, though; foolish, and yet necessary, if I am not to go screaming off into the blackness that is my life and allow it to close itself around me forever. Although screaming itself would be an acceptable option if I had enough energy to even think about something like that.

This is where the Internet allows me to deceive you, by the way. It is a lot easier to inject a simulacrum of life into a written word than it is into real, face-to-face interactions. Sometimes people don't believe I am as depressed as I am because "your writing is so alive!" (actual quote) I find it hard to believe it myself sometimes. how can I sit here, desiring nothing more than to just stare at the wall, and indeed feeling capable of no more than that, and turn out blog posts and pictures and poems as if I were some productive member of society? I have no idea. At least I'm not alone in that, though. I have seen so much extraordinary art turned out by people in the deepest depths of depression that it is very nearly the rule, not the exception. Every one of them, however, would trade all the productivity away if offered the chance at hope and freedom.

Speaking of alone...I am. It is the only facet of my depression that I can take nearly full responsibility for. It happens every time. I feel the onslaught of darkness, and instead of turning to those who love me to help shore up what few defenses I posses, I withdraw from them. The motives vary by person...my love I don't want to hurt or worry, so I hide the darkness from him until it is too late for him to help and I cannot hide it anymore (yes, some small part of me knows this causes him more worry/stress in the long run, but depression and logic don't exactly get along usually). For my friends...well, the majority of them feel helpless in the face of my depression, and deal with that by ignoring it completely, so really, what would be the point of going to them anyway? I have one friend that is closer than most, and would feel okay asking for help...except that it is too easy to spread my depression to her, and I already lost her once because of it. So yeah, definitely not going that route again. So I'll deal with this by myself, and conquer or be vanquished by my own power.

I would be dishonest if I didn't mention another facet of depression. The blade. I have not returned to it...but I want to. And each day as I sink deeper into the abyss my resistance crumbles a little more. Because, truthfully, self-injury does work. It provides a release from the darkness (or the pain), lets you feel alive for a while. The problem with it was never that it didn't work. But are the consequences worth the "remedy"? I've already had the scars I posses used to deny me a job. The whole cutting thing reared its ugly head in our custody case, as well (although the way their lawyer tried to emphasize it just made him look foolish and was actually rather humorous). Granted, there are places I could cut where prospective employers would never see, and I do possess the ability to keep my mouth shut (no matter how rarely I actually use it). But that reasoning leaves out the intense pain it causes my beloved when I cut. I wish it didn't, both because I don't want to cause him any pain in any way ever, and because I do really want to cut. I wish he could let it hurt him less, but I know that if he did, it would be because he cared for me less, and I don't want that. So for now, well, I will continue not to cut. But there may come a time when there is so much darkness that blood red is more desirable than spending one more moment in the abyss. I hope that day never comes. I am terrified it will, because cutting is addictive and I will not be able to stop when I need to. But for now, well...I will fight on. Because, at this moment, Love is worth more than relieving the darkness.

And so I come near to the end of words for now. Perhaps today will be a better day. One can always hope. even if it is pointless.

"I am falling apart. I can hardly sleep, I barely eat, and each new day sinks me deeper... I am falling to that place where I feel nothing and I don't even care, half the time I'm there already... I haven't returned to the blade...yet. But it is calling to me; it asks me how long will I survive without it? And the answer is, I don't know. I don't know how long I can resist its siren song. It tells me no one need know; I could hide it well enough if I so desired... I'm losing my grip. I'm losing my ability to tell what is right and wrong, and I'm having trouble caring. So many thoughts are crashing through my head like waves, and I'm drowning. Help me."
Nearly a year ago I sent that in an email. It is exactly as true now as it was then. And if that email came after literally years of darkness with no discernible break, and I feel the same way now after only a few weeks, months at the most...well, let's just say I don't have a lot of hope at this point.

To: feartodoubt. Love: Threnody

Hello there, feartodoubt. You mentioned finding my blog and reading it. I hope you find this. You may be searching for answers; at this point I don't care. I despise you. Why? Because you used my illness as a weapon against me. You turned my depression into an estimation of my worth. And that is not okay. That is not acceptable. Perhaps I was overconfident when I declared I had emerged from my depression. Or perhaps I just let myself hope too hard. Be that as it may..."it sounds to me as though you had lost"? Lost what? A struggle against depression? Perhaps. My battle against SI? Not yet, I haven't. Perhaps a better question would be, what is there to win? Is this a race, a contest? Is it even over yet? I would venture to say no. No, this is a war, and while yes, I did emerge triumphant from a years-long battle (however brief the armistice was), and also yes, I am now losing a months-long fight...no, this isn't the end. So please save your judgment of the worth of my arguments based on my disability for another time. That is to say, stop judging my arguments as an exChristian based on a mental illness I cannot control.

Thanks
~Threnody

Afraid of...sleep?

I fear sleeping nowadays. I don't really know why, but I face each advent of sleep with something akin to terror. I don't know what I think will happen, just that it must be avoided at all costs. So I've stopped sleeping, for the most part, this week. I only lay down when I absolutely cannot function anymore, and even then I lie awake as my brain tries desperately to fight...what? Since this is usually about the time my son is getting up, I tend to not have the chance to sleep deeply or long anyway, which is okay with the part of me that is irrationally terrified of a necessity.

The fun thing about depression, though, is that it feeds on tiredness, on weariness. So while I am busy saving myself (from what?), I am in effect opening the gate for the darkness to just have its way with me. I can't win...but then, in dealing with depression, so few can. I am so tired of fighting the darkness, of trying to outrun it. It is going to come no matter what I do...would it be so horrible if I just let it? Even the darkness and emptiness would be better than the fear and utter weariness I stumble through now, wouldn't it?

What can I say...

...the servers were down for maintenance.

Sometimes I wish I could cry

Found on the Cheezburger Network

I found this comment randomly on the Internet. It was in a reply to someone stating that most major wars in civilized history were started by religion. I don't agree with everything he/she/it has to say, but I found it worthy enough of reflection that I will post it here for further inspection.

You need to clarify that statement. Wars, yes, I could actually buy that as a legitimate argument. An actual declarations between sovereign nations over economic disputes…yeah, I can see that. I tend to disagree because the exploitation of religion is easy to use as a means to an end of economic gain (such as the claim that slavery was condoned in the Bible -which it is- making the cession from the Union a necessary act to preserve the institution of slave labor, ensuring continued economic prosperity at the expense of human life.)Mass conflicts resulting in violence and bloodshed? Not even close. The Israelis and Palestinians aren’t just “fighting” and “killing” one another because they can’t decide in taxation issues. In Ireland, Catholics and Protestants are bombing one another because they are upset over a new tariff. The Crusades, the Inquisition, the Holocaust, the European abuse of natives (multiple continents), the war on terror, slavery, the conflict between Sunnis and Shiites, and on and on and on.Maybe it is still for economic gain, and religion is being exploited by those in control for profit, and undermining the true efforts of whatever faith is actually being discussed, but it can not be denied or ignored that the bulk of human suffering and misery, now and throughout history, can be traced to, at the very least, the perversion of some religion, somewhere, in order to justify rather abhorrent and evil acts of atrocity.Find me someone, somewhere, willing to fight, kill and die for something they don’t believe to be right. Then ask that person if their determination of what’s “right” or “wrong,” their own personal morality, doesn’t stem from their faith and their religion. Then put the two together and see just how culpable religion is when it comes to war and fighting.

A new direction, perhaps

You really shouldn't let me have a straight edge

This Journey Is My Own

I love to help others. In fact, more than once, I have gotten myself in trouble trying to help someone else. If someone is hurt, or scared, or confused, or trapped, I will do whatever I can to fix their problem. I think that is part of the problem I find myself running into now. I want to help people escape the trap of Christianity. And so I try to argue, to fight, to convince them to find true freedom. But I forget, that isn't why Lalaith and I started writing this blog. We started writing it for ourselves, to make a record of our journey into untwisting the tangled web. That is why no one outside ourselves saw it for so long; it wasn't written for your benefit, but for ours. 

Sure there are inconsistencies. But I don't need to defend them to you. If you would be so kind as to point them out (using quotes if possible), I will try to address them. But not to satisfy you, no. I will face and overcome contradictions and inconsistencies so that I (not you) can look myself in the face with confidence. To be perfectly honest, I don't care if you think I'm wrong, inconsistent, contradictory, or even mentally unbalanced. The opinion of people on the Internet (that I don't even know) matters now a whit to me. Because (to repeat myself, in case you didn't catch it the first time) I'm not writing for your benefit. I'm writing for mine, and for Lalaith's.

I hope I am being clear. Varda's whole blog has taught me that things I say can and will be completely misunderstood. (I guess as long as she isn't praying for my death, I can deal with it though.) It isn't that I won't listen to your arguments, or consider what you have to say. I'm not saying that your words will never have an effect on me. Just that I honestly don't care if you hear all I have to say and think me (at best) wrong or (at worst) a liar.

I will continue to write. I will continue to post. And I will continue to take your words into consideration. But this journey is my own, and I will travel it as I see fit. You are welcome to come along for the ride...but I am undertaking my own liberty, not yours.

New Year Dawning

A new year has dawned. And for the first time in years, it seems likely to be a normal one. No cutting, no false friends, no giving up on motherhood, no court battles...just me, my husband, and my son, living life as we were meant to. And this is a great thing, or should be. The problem is, I don't know what to do with a normal year! Pain has been my only constant for so many years that I don't know what to do in its absence. And it is not as if the pain has just disappeared, anyway. My past has not been suddenly changed; all the pains, trials, heartaches, betrayals, and memories that have molded me into who I am today have not been forgotten. They have, however, been overshadowed: not replaced, but demoted. I have made new friends, new family, new joys, new memories. And for the first time since I can remember, these are the life events I am now free to enjoy, to savor, to remember. So what will a new, "normal" year bring? Something that, ironically, I never found in Christ: "life, and that more abundantly."

But it will bring that only if this present darkness takes its leave. I will fight for joy, for freedom, as long as I am able, but as I do not choose this darkness, so it does not listen to my pleas. I will admit that I am frightened. Pain and darkness have been too close my companions for far too long, and my all-too-brief stint of freedom makes me that much more loathe to have them return. But even as they start their inexorable slide back into my life, I have one thing to comfort me: hope. I now know that no matter how long or how deep this darkness binds me, one day I will be free again. One day I will look at the world in freedom. One day I will smile unfeigned and laugh unrestrained. That day was not today, but I have hope that it will be tomorrow. And if not tomorrow, the next day. And if not then, someday the sun WILL shine again.

I look at these two paragraphs I have written, and realize that at first glance they seem to say opposite things. The first one speaks of freedom, the second one of darkness. How can they both be true at once? But as you look closer, you start to see the darkness behind the first...darkness that has never truly left. I talk of freedom, and I mean what I say...I have been free these last few months. Compared to what my life has been before, I have been living in paradise! But even in the midst of all this sunshine and light, I have been aware of the darkness returning. For I've still had bad days, and as they come faster and closer together, I know I am descending into a darkness I'd rather not face. That is what you see in the second paragraph. But I do have hope, because I have tasted freedom and seen light, and while I know I cannot choose when I will return here, I know that I will, one day.

But for now, I will enjoy what light-filled days life brings me, and endure through the dark ones, knowing that one day I will again walk in sunshine.

Comment Response (I Think)

So how much faith does it take to be a Christian? The Bible talks of faith "smaller than a mustard seed," does it not? I consider myself an exChristian, because if the Bible were true, I would be "saved." A lot of people (most recently Varda) have tried to invalidate my rejection of Christianity on the basis that "I must have never been saved to begin with," therefore I have no understanding of what it is to be a Christian. I was merely pointing out that, having "called upon the name of the Lord" I should be saved. Or having accepted "the gift of God which is eternal life." Or having trusted that it was "not by works of righteousness which I have done, but according to his mercy, he saved me." (By the way, why am I the only one that has quoted Scripture thus far?) The way I have worded some things is, I think, what has caused Varda to believe that I was attempting to work for my salvation, so for that, I would have to apologize. Sorry, Varda. By the Bible's standards, however, I was a child of God, a born again believer. And while you are free to believe otherwise, I would just like to ask you then...are you God, to judge a person's heart? Certainly you can talk of "by your fruits you shall know them," but even given that, you cannot judge with certainty whether I was or was not saved. (In one sense, you might consider me still saved, as there is that whole "once saved, always saved" concept to consider.)

As for your other comment, I don't believe that mine is the only rational viewpoint. I think there are a lot of rational viewpoints out there, religious or otherwise. I (gently, hopefully) mocked some of Varda's viewpoints because, well, she isn't presenting them rationally. She is picking apart my posts, twisting them, and responding to "me" about things I haven't actually said or believe. I do believe that Christianity as a whole is untrue. I base that on my experience. But I will admit that, not having had your experience, I cannot fully argue the truth of Christianity for you. I'm not trying to argue the relativity of truth (which would be a discussion for another time entirely anyway), just saying that while I can, on one hand, emphatically state that the Bible is a lie, on the other hand, I realize that you (or at least Varda) would emphatically state that it is truth. I believe you are wrong, but you are correct in pointing out that it is a belief. However, it is a belief based on rational logic and facts. That is where Christianity breaks down. It asks you to believe a great number of opposite and illogical things, because God (according to the Bible) said so. I won't get into those now because I've pointed them out before. Anyway, there is a reason my belief system currently goes by the name "pragmatic agnosticism." You can google (or wikipedia) that if you wish, but basically it means that while I could be wrong about the existence of God (and therefore about the truth of the Bible and Christianity), given that God has made no clearly discernible difference in the world, it is a moot point. (Yes, I realize Christians would disagree about God making a difference. But for everything they would like to say God has done, I could point out a completely nonreligious explanation.)

I started this in the comments section but since it turned out so long I will just post it on the main page. As with yesterday, if I come back to this after actually having had that wondrous thing called sleep and grammatically or logically I've had issues, my apologies. And just in case you were wondering, yes, being illogically terrified of sleeping does indeed suck. (Although I'm not sure being illogically terrified of sleeping has much to do with the fact that I haven't slept, since even when I try to go to sleep it hasn't worked well.)

I just wanted to thank Varda for giving me a good chuckle and a few head shakings, and promise her I shall respond to at least some of her responses. It is hard when you spend a few months on a blog and someone decides to respond to it...and misunderstands and misrepresents every single post. I guess such is life, and Christianity. Rest assured, though, Varda, I will get back to you. In the meantime, though, check out this blog, written while I was a Christian (until last July of course, since that was when I left "the Faith") and answer me why I would ever go back to the life I lived then. Or why I would not do my best to snatch my friends from that bondage (and it is no less a bondage if you love your jailer).

One last thing before I go, one thing I had to respond to: you talk as though I (and Lalaith) were never Christians, that we never loved God, that we could never understand this mystical love relationship with him because we were never sincere. To put it most bluntly and shortly: you are dead wrong. I was a Christian. My faith (though sorely misplaced) was real. I believed the Bible, I believed in salvation, I "called upon the name of the Lord" and should have been "saved"...did such a thing as salvation exist. But, to be even more blunt, such a thing does not exist. I never had a relationship with God, never loved him as you think Christians ought to, because He doesn't exist either. I wanted to. I lived my life wondering why I didn't. I sought him earnestly, as the Bible said I ought to (which you referred to as "trying to earn salvation"...if obeying the Bible is trying to earn salvation then you're all screwed). I wasn't knocking faith as a concept in my post; I was pointing out that no matter how plainly I say it, firmly I believe it, or irrefutably I prove it, you (and most Christians) will never accept that truth, because you have "faith" that the opposite is true.

Anyway. That is really all I wanted to say for right now. I shall say more later, providing I'm awake and don't have other pressing business *cough cough World of Warcraft cough cough* to attend to.

I may come back and find all kinds of typos and spelling errors (like the fact that somehow i just tried to spell error "hours"); my excuse is that I've been up about 22 hours now (on 5 hours of interrupted sleep). Anyway. Catch you later.

You Are Not Persecuted

Christians like to talk of persecution. And I will admit, in some places Christians do face loss or even death for their beliefs. But American Christians like to say how they were persecuted for their faith the other day...when someone looked at them crosswise for bowing their head in public. Or when they were being loudmouthed about how gay people are such horrible sinners and someone told them they ought to practice love. In fact, it seems to me that the majority of this "persecution" American Christians (and I'd like to clarify: not all American Christians act this way. Just a great many.) like to tell each other about, is merely people expecting Christians to act according to their calling. That is not the worst of it, however. These same Christians engage in persecution of anyone they deem a "sinner." They wish to force their religious beliefs on those homosexuals who wish to make the ultimate commitment to each other. They call us blind, twisted, unable to love or find peace. I think they are the blind ones. Never in my life was I persecuted for being a Christian. I was persecuted, while a Christian, by Christians, for being a cutter. I was persecuted for sleeping with my fiance (and by persecution I do not mean getting kicked out of school. That was right, as we did violate the rules. I am referring to the ostracizing that they enforced on me after that. And if you do not believe me, I've kept all the emails.). And I have been persecuted ever since I rejected Christianity, with sincere Christians calling for all other sincere Christians to pray for my death. In case you are missing the irony here, let me spell it out for you. Those who are supposed to be the harbingers of eternal life, are calling for me to die. So, I do not wish to hear about your "persecution" because someone said calling a homosexual a "perverted faggot" was not very loving. You have nothing of which to complain.

To My Parents

I can see your pain

I know that it's there

I try to ignore it

But don't think I don't care

I know it has happened

The day that you feared

I dismissed all you taught me,

The way I was reared

I searched and found truth

You knew not you had lied

Now the look in your eyes is

As though someone has died

I wish I could save you

I would take all your tears

I'd take all your sorrows

And erase all your fears

But I can't close my eyes

I will not be deceived

So I let your tears fall

And your pain goes unrelieved

Perhaps one day you'll join me

One day you too will be free

But for now I still love you

And I know you still love me

Chain Gang

The difference between doing a good thing because you must and doing a good thing because it is a good thing is the difference between a chain gang* building a much-needed road and a group of volunteers building it. The good gets accomplished, but one group was forced into it, while the other group did it willingly. Which one, do you suppose, felt good about his work? Which one enjoyed it? I will give you a hint: it wasn't the chain gang. In the same way, I feel much better about doing good things now than I did when I was a Christian. Then, I had to do it, because my God demanded it. Now, I do it only because my conscience suggests it. And I feel good about my work in the same way a group of volunteers looks at their efforts and feels accomplished, while the chain gang says "well, that's one more hard labor completed, on to the next one." Sure, there might be the rare member of a chain gang who, even though forced into his work, feels a sense of pride and accomplishment in it, just as there would be members of the volunteers who felt pressured into helping. But those are the exception, not the rule. I could even point out, that even though the chain gang performed a good task, they are neither praised nor rewarded for it, by anyone. They are doing it as penance for the crimes they committed, or even merely because their warden demanded that they should. I can not help but see the similarities to Christianity there, as well; just replace "crimes they committed" with "inherent sin nature" and "warden" with "God." The volunteers saw a need, and filled it, and reap not only the reward their own conscience gives them, but also the esteem of their peers. Now tell me, which would you rather be, chain gang or volunteer?

*For any who might not know what a chain gang is, it is a group of prison inmates who, instead of sitting in a cell, are forced to work while they serve their term. They used to be (and I don't know how much chain gangs actually exist anymore) chained together in some sense while they worked, hence the term "chain gang."

Nothing to Prove

I have lost the need to write constantly about my decision to reject Christianity. I have nothing to prove. Christianity lives or dies by faith. Faith is not logical, it does not accept proof, or facts, or reason. It lives by its own rules and its own beliefs. So I can prove nothing to a Christian, unless they already have their own doubts. I may plant the seed that one day flourishes into doubt; I hope I do. But I will never be able to prove anything to people who, when faced with irrefutable truth, simply say, "I believe the opposite, because the Bible says so."

In another sense, though, I do not feel the need to write constantly about my own new beliefs and values. They are what they are, and I do not need validation from anyone, even those who agree with me, to hold them. That is the main reason I write less now. I am confident in my viewpoint in a way I never was with Christianity. Half of my writing for the last several years has been as much to convince me as anyone else that my faith was real. Because it was misplaced, I was fighting a losing battle, a battle I did eventually lose.

I am not perfect. I never was. But now I no longer have to strive for perfection. No one is going to say to me, "your ex-Christianity is not good enough," and if they did, I would laugh in their face most heartily. I do not think it is bad to write about these things, especially as I am doing it right now, but the reason I have not written nearly so much is that I have no need. I am complete in and of myself.

Freedom to Live

There are a lot more of us out there than one might think. By "us," I mean those who have questioned the Christianity we were raised with, and come out calling ourselves "ex-Christian." We have seen through the hypocrisy and the lies, we refuse to accept on blind faith the inconsistencies of our former religion.

But what do we do now? All change is difficult in some respect, however necessary it is. But when the change is as huge as this one, our lives are turned upside down. Christianity dominated our lives; we were taught to do everything as a Christian, even eat or drink. And so we ask, "if I remove Christianity, what do I have left? Will not my life be completely pointless?" Do not give in to those thoughts, seeker. That is what Christianity wants you to think. You can and ought to have a life free from the false constrictions of religion. Rejecting Christianity is not the death of your existence, but rather the birth. Christianity does not have a monopoly on joy, or happiness, or love, though it might think it does. Lalaith has found love apart from Christ. I still love and am loved. And we are both happier than we ever were while we held to a belief that punished us for everything from our doubts to our desires.

Ex-Christian is a daunting title. It means you must no longer rely on a faceless, formless God or his supposed Word for your direction. You are free to, and must, seek your own way. You now have both great freedom, and great responsibility. You are free to do as you choose, and to answer only to your own conscience, and that is great freedom indeed. But you can no longer say, "that is right (or wrong) because the Bible says so." You are the sole determination of your own morality, and that is a great responsibility. But that is not to say you must reject the morality of the Bible. Loving your neighbor is likely a good thing, and I daresay most would agree murder is still wrong. You can pick and choose what agrees with your conscience. In the end, you will not answer to God. You will answer to your own conscience and give account to yourself for how you lived your own life.

It is true, it is no use to wait for God to tell you what direction you should take in your life. So what direction do you want to take, seeker? What do you like to do, what calling do you desire? You can do anything you want, you know. Nothing is withheld from you. You are free to choose.

Do you see what I mean about this being a birth, new life? It is still daunting to completely discard everything your life has stood for until this point. It is even natural to feel a sense of loss. But do not wallow in that loss. Look forward to what you now possess. Relish your freedom, and do not waste too much time looking back, to what was. Look forward! See what new adventures are in store for you! You have new landscapes to explore, new treasures to seek. Your shackles have been broken! Go and be free!

Biography

A lifetime of pains and fears
Vanquished in an instant of truth
The fault was not in me
I did not lack for faith and hope
Though many told me so
The lack of love not mine but his
Sorrow his sole reward

He damned me for existence
For word, for thought, for smile
Deception of myself, I thought
Him happy, and I his child
I read his word, prayed for aid
And silence his sole reply

Forsaken, I struggled still
I sought to do his will
I fought and failed his love to win
Not knowing I'd been damned
I turned to friend and elder
To staunch the flow of doubts
"He sends this pain, but trust!"
They said. "His love is your sole need."

But then I really looked, and saw
My soul had been deceived
He said he was composed of love
But now I saw the lie
In all the years I wept and sought
He never showed his face
He showed not love to me
But cold indifference in my need

I reject thee, O Christ, O God, Jehovah
I name thee for what thou art
Deceiver, Liar, King of Hate
I shall never bow to thee again
Thou hast wasted my gift of years
And given nothing in return

So now I make my way alone
I have no guiding light
I search for truth, no more deceived
I now unweave the tangled web.

Biblical Rape

I've been reading a lot on the internet today. I started with this post. (Also, just fyi, Incongruous Circumspection is an awesome blog that you should read ALL of.) Then of course I went to the post he is referring to, here. I did manage to read it but apparently since then it's been taken down. If it was because it was a horrible post, then yay! If it's so they stop getting bashed on the web, I suppose that's understandable. Being a thorough type of gal I also looked at this one, this one, and also this one. Here is the part that has been causing such controversy:

A final aspect of rape that should be briefly mentioned is perhaps closer to home. Because we have forgotten the biblical concepts of true authority and submission, or more accurately, have rebelled against them, we have created a climate in which caricatures of authority and submission intrude upon our lives with violence.
When we quarrel with the way the world is, we find that the world has ways of getting back at us. In other words, however we try, the sexual act cannot be made into an egalitarian pleasuring party. A man penetrates, conquers, colonizes, plants. A woman receives, surrenders, accepts. This is of course offensive to all egalitarians, and so our culture has rebelled against the concept of authority and submission in marriage. This means that we have sought to suppress the concepts of authority and submission as they relate to the marriage bed.
But we cannot make gravity disappear just because we dislike it, and in the same way we find that our banished authority and submission comes back to us in pathological forms. This is what lies behind sexual “bondage and submission games,” along with very common rape fantasies. Men dream of being rapists, and women find themselves wistfully reading novels in which someone ravishes the “soon to be made willing” heroine. Those who deny they have any need for water at all will soon find themselves lusting after polluted water, but water nonetheless.
True authority and true submission are therefore an erotic necessity. When authority is honored according to the word of God it serves and protects — and gives enormous pleasure. When it is denied, the result is not “no authority,” but an authority which devours. - Doug Wilson

Doug Wilson and I of course are going to disagree right off the bat because he believes in God and I do not. That isn't exactly what all the hullabaloo is about, though. The way this quote is worded could be (and has, all over the internet) taken as espousing marital rape. After all, the man "conquers" and the woman "surrenders." He has insisted that he is not espousing rape at all, and for now I will take his word for that. Of course, we have no word on if Wilson, like many patriarchal partisans, believes a man cannot rape his wife. It's not a very modern view. It's not a kind or loving view at all. It is, however, a biblical view. Granted, the same biblical view says that a woman cannot rape her husband either. Their bodies belong to each other, that view says, so they are only taking what is already there. Like I said, thought, we don't know if Doug Wilson believes that particularly revolting bit of the Bible or not. He certainly does believe that the woman must submit to the man in all things, including sex.

I am not really happy with it, but here it is

I finished it

I couldn't decide how to color it. So I didn't.

Colored pencil does not scan well

Allegory

Hark! A dream beheld!

A lone warrior standing against a menace dark
Flame spewing from its maw
Barely reflected by upraised shield
A claw reached out and tumbled
Sliced off by razor-sharp sword
Blood spurted, then quick as thought
The monster roared, whole once more

The battle raged, first monster, then warrior
Neither gaining victory, neither admitting defeat
I looked, and wondered, who could win?
But as I pondered further
The warrior faltered, and stumbled
Momentarily, and rose back to the fray
Movements slower than before
The monster pressed its advantage
But the warrior withstood its attacks still

But as I watched
A tendril, a thread, unseen by its target
Wormed its way into the warrior's mind
And began its slow poison drip

I awoke, but one last thing I saw...
"How long can I fight this? How long 'til I fall?"

Got a little lazy...oh well, bite me

Colored in Gimp

I drew this all by myself...in paint. Bow before me, mere mortals.

this is why I don't do Princesses

Royal Red (and violet)

Blue Star

In Brown

Star Light, Star Bright...

Pale

Flower

Encircled

Entwined

this one is my favorite

Thing Two

Thing Three

Blue Square, Ish

Thing One

A New Synopsis

I did not come to this conclusion with rejoicing. I came to it with fear, with sorrow and tears. I wanted to believe. I wanted to ignore the lies, close my eyes to the failure of my faith. I could not.

I could not go on believing. Some people have the faith, the perseverance to continue through years of doubt, and come out stronger. I am not among their number. I blamed my sorrow on my past, and what remained, on my actions. I earnestly searched for God, and when he was not found, I bore the shame of a failed relationship. For God is perfect, I was told, any fault must be in me. It drove me down deeper into the shame that was my life. My past created the shame (though it should not have); failure to please my Deity drove it deeper. I went to counselor after counselor, my shame too deep for friends to hear. Their advice, though varied and well-meaning, only made the message clearer: if a fault existed between me and my God, I was the only one to blame. I believed them. But I could not find him. I searched. I grew weary and walked away and came back to search some more. Sometimes I convinced myself I had found him, but always I grew discouraged for lack of a response. But then…

I stopped.

I asked why a God who loves had allowed my past. I asked how a God who controls offers free will. I asked all the questions with no answers…and found I had no more faith to cover the flaws. I mourned what happened to me, the loss of faith stripped me of the last of my innocence. I could no longer hide in “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.” But what happens now, now that I have no faith to cover me, no Rock to lean my convictions upon? Now I must make my way alone. Now I must make my own standard, now I must choose my own way. People speak of faith being hard; ha! Faith was easy compared to this. What is right? And what is wrong? And why?

So now what? What do I believe now, now that faith has departed? I believe that there is a God; at least, I believe there is a force that either created this world or set evolution in motion. Or perhaps formed our existence another way altogether. I believe the Bible is a work of fiction, written and preserved by man. I do not believe in Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, or any other religion of the world. I make my own way. I pull from Christianity that which I think good. Perhaps I shall do the same for the rest. I live life as I have always done, within the confines of that which my conscience currently calls good. When I carved my own flesh, I thought that good (although now I feel it was wrong. But who can say? I survived when I might have died). When I followed Christ, I thought that right. What I believe is right may change tomorrow, or next year. Few things are constant, and though I live mainly by logic, I would be the first to say that logic changes. What is reasonable now may not be later.

I realize that I have said much of this before. I will probably write something similar in the future. But each new writing reveals (to me as well as to you) a new facet of my beliefs as they evolve. And now I must ask you something. My conscience does not let me stand idle as others are held in a trap of lies. What is your faith based on? How do you answer the unanswerable questions? Do you even know what they are? How do you rejoice in a God who is with you through trials when you believe he created those trials? Why do you believe?

Why I Have Issues with God (In Part)

The reason God and I have issues is not that his children have a stunning inability to live up to their name. While that sucks, they are after all, only human. No, God and I have issues because of his unwillingness or inability to aid me at any point in my life. I can't say I've always been wholehearted in searching for him, but I don't think that matters. If that were a requirement, no one would qualify. Again, that whole human thing. Of course, it isn't a given that anyone does qualify. I know too many people who have deluded themselves (case in point: inlaws) into thinking God is leading them when, if he is who they say he is, he would never do any such thing. Who is to say that those who truly believe that they have a relationship with God are not laboring under a similar delusion?

But as for God...in my view, he is either impotent or at best, a liar. I don't deny that he may have done good things. After all, Earth is a pretty sweet place to live. I too have done good things, however. That doesn't make either one of us actually good. Why should I believe God is good? Because I am yet alive? Because I have a loving family? At times I would rather have been dead. And my husband loves me of his own free will, and my son was born of sin. Should I believe God is good because he let an eight year old girl be sexually violated by her brother? Should I thank him that I bore blame for my innocence? Should I believe that his absence from my entire life was an aspect of his goodness? What do you think I am, crazy?

On a Pastoral Encounter

Pastor Loggans asked a lot of questions today, and sadly, I can't remember them all. But what do I believe about God? Is he powerless? I don't think I believe that because if I did I wouldn't be so mad at him for what happened. But do I believe he even exists? I don't see a reason to. I think my mind has been thinking that because I reject evolution I have to believe there is a God. I am starting to believe he doesn't exist at all. The world is a whole lot easier to understand if you aren't trying to justify some good god. There is no good god. He isn't letting bad things happen, because he doesn't even exist.
But do I really believe that? I think I wish that I did believe it more than anything. But I think my Baptist upbringing has spoiled me for any true atheism. No, here is what I do and do not believe, as of right now anyway:
I believe that God is.
I believe that God created the world, or at least set evolution in motion (my objection to theistic evolution, besides lack of proof, has always been the "death before sin" part).
I do not believe that man is inherently evil.
I do not believe that God is inherently good.
I do not believe that God is worthy of worship because he created any more than I am because I gave birth.
I believe that man acts as he does out of his heart, which is why there is both great evil and great good in the world.
I do not believe God gives strength or power to humans.
I do not believe "for his glory" is an acceptable reason for God to initiate or allow evil to happen to the innocent.
I believe "free will" is a Christian cop-out. According to your Bible, God can and will override free will when it pleases him.
I believe that if God was truly opposed to "sin" and evil he would eradicate them. He allowed and causes them to flourish.
This is not an exhaustive or comprehensive list, and it is subject to change at any moment. It is more of a work in progress. But here it is for now. I am sure there will be more later.

How Dare You?

I have discovered a paradox. It is not a recent discovery, although I am just sitting down to write about it. The paradox is this: people complain about the masks that some of us wear. They want us to open up, to show more of our true selves, to reveal what we truly think. But if or when we do so, we are called emo or whiny or just ignored. Why do you think we were wearing a mask to begin with? The only thing worse than feeling pain is sharing that pain and having it mocked or ignored or belittled. So what are we supposed to do? We desperately want to be known, but if being known only brings more pain, how should we react then?
The worst part of this conundrum? Although heathens do this as well, everything I've said is something Christians engage in frequently. You, who are supposed to share Christ's love, mock and ridicule those who need that love the most. How dare you? How dare you make his love exclusive? How dare you misrepresent his caring? How dare you forget the very meaning of your name? Did Christ come to cure only your pain? Did he come to heal only your broken heart? Is his grace only enough for your need? How dare you do nothing? You have left Christ broken, and friendless, and hurting, in deepest darkness, because you have done it "to the least of these."

Family

Family is a strange and nebulous thing. Recent events have really brought that home to me. For one thing, having to fight for custody of my own son has shown me how much I truly love him. While I was considering giving him up for adoption, having that choice threatened made me think a whole lot harder. And I realized I won't be a perfect mother. I probably won't even be in the high end of the "good" roster. But I am the best person to raise my son because I am his mother and I love him.
There are more family elements to this equation, however. Because the people trying to take my son away are also family. And while they are incredibly stubborn and pigheaded sometimes, I ought to love them. I struggle with that. If anybody else did and said the same things they do, I would hate them forever. I might even take legal action. And no matter that they have taken legal action, I can be better than that. I am better than that.
So, family. Family is forever (or at least until death). So I guess I will do my best to love, even those who don't deserve it.

A Life Wasted in Waiting

I have wasted so much time waiting for a Savior. I believed them when they told me I could not find strength save in Christ. I waited through years of abuse; I searched through years of pain and tears. They told me when I turned to cutting that I needed him instead, that only he could provide relief. When I became enslaved to cutting, they told me only he could free me.

I was deceived. They lied to me.

I have grown. I have matured. They try to tell me this is Christ, but they are wrong. Christ has done nothing for me. I conquered cutting. I have laid to rest my own pain. I am done waiting for a Savior when I have already saved myself. I have wasted too much believing in my own weakness. I am not weak. I have survived. I am strong.

So farewell, O Christ. I do not doubt thy existence, for I have seen thy hand in nature, at least. If thou hast saved me from damnation, I thank thee. I have only thy word that I was damned. But I do not need thee. What good my life has known, I have brought, as I have brought my own pain. I have used thee to excuse my own laziness and weakness, and praised thee for my own strength. No more. Thou hast not helped nor hindered me. Thou hast had nothing to do wth me, and now I will have nothing more to do with thee.

So be it.

The Conqueror Has Come, and It Is I

I have conquered cutting. I alone. No Savior guided my path, no Father lit my steps. I walked alone. I fought alone, and in my own strength prevailed. So if he was absent during the darkest battles, why should I seek him now that combat has ceased? Where in life has he aided me? I endured the One Thing alone, and alone I ended it. I faced the backlash and utter ruin of my life by myself. He was not there when I begged and pleaded for his love, nor when I turned my back and walked away. Spiritually, I am still alone, as I have always been. I used to be weak. I have become strong. I will serve no master. I will be slave to neither cutting nor Christ. What need have I of him? I have faced the deepest darkness and emerged by my own power. When there were only one set of footprints in the sand - then, as always, I walked alone. I will not say that I faced the worst that life has to offer, though I can hope that is so. But what I have faced is great, and I have overcome. So cease to woo me, my Father! I do not desire you. I do not need you. You were not here when my need was greatest; you should not attempt to be here now. In weakness I desired you, in desperation I turned to you - but you closed your eyes, you refused to hear. I stumbled and fell and nearly died, but I survived. In your absence I turned to the blade, and as destructive as that was, it never failed to answer my need as you have failed. I do not need you. Begone.

Hark!

Hark!
Listen!
Strain your ears
Open your senses -
Do you hear?

The siren song has faded
The melody of blood
Lies achingly silent.

When did it cease?
What force could quiet
The haunting melody?

When did revulsion
Replace blind desire?
What broke the chains?

Hark!
Listen!
Strain your ears
Open your senses -
Do you hear?

A few faint strains
Float past, born on the breeze...
No longer seduction -
A hideous cacophony,
It repulses me.

Questions

Why is it, that while I am searching for answers, yearning for meaning, that I neglect, purposefully ignore that which contains the answers, provides the meaning?

Why is it that I search for God but ignore his Word? Why is it that I ignore what he says while I cry for him to speak to me? Why do I shut my eyes tight while I yearn to see him working? Why do I hold out my arms to him and ignore his arms reaching toward me?

So why do I blame him for the struggles I have created? Why do I hold him responsible for my actions? Did he choose to sin? Has he ever held the blade? Was his the yearning for blood? Did he cause my pain?

When will I be honest with myself? When will I realize I am lying to myself? When will I take responsibility for my own life? When will I search for truth in truth's Source? When will I choose to look forward and not back?

When will I choose to stop existing and live?

Once Upon a Time...

Once upon a time...well, I wish it was "once upon a time." But this is no fairy tale, this is reality. My reality. But just as fairy tales disguise deeper, darker meanings, I will use "once upon a time" for you, my friends. I will tell the truth in the form of a story. So let me start once more...
Once upon a time there was a girl. She was a fairly ordinary girl. She lived with her fairly ordinary parents and two of her four fairly ordinary brothers. But she had a secret. And it was no ordinary secret. It was certainly no ordinary secret for a twelve-year-old girl to have. She knew this. She knew, but for four long years she had kept this secret. It was time to let go. It was time to seek help. And so she did. And the aftermath of that telling was terrible nearly beyond words.
But what was this secret? What secret could a twelve-year-old girl have of such terrible proportions so as to rip her very soul to shreds? It had a name, but the girl didn't know it. She didn't call it by that name when she sought help, nor for nearly a decade afterward. Even now, she resists that name and the label it imposes on her. The word? Abuse. Sexual molestation. The girl had been touched. Not in a platonic way, no. He touched her in all those secret places. His mouth followed his fingers, and he invited her to do the same. She was confused. Was this some new sort of game? She did as he asked, though. After all, she was lonely, and prior to this point he'd never seemed much interested in her. Nobody had. So she loved the attention. And so the next time he came to her, and the next, and the next, for months, she did as he asked. They incorporated all the childhood games into their "play," from paper dolls to War to dress-up. For her it was just another game, a way to spend time with her now-favorite friend. For him, well, who knows what it was for him, though one can guess. But as the months passed into years, she began to realize that this wasn't all fun and games. There was something wrong here, something dirty. Perhaps the need for secrecy should have tipped her off sooner, but what eight-year-old doesn't love secrets? By then, too, they'd moved on to more than just touch. She'd grown breasts, an early bloomer. He was fascinated by those breasts. He couldn't get enough of them. She didn't like this. She desired it to stop. It was wrong, she would tell him. But you're so sexy, he'd reply. I can't help it. She knew he was right, it was her fault. Guilt and shame kept her silent.
It was then that he started forcing the girl. Not physically, no. No, he manipulated her. He preyed on her loneliness, he played on her shame. And so it continued for more years. And it wasn't just touching anymore. Now it was all but actual intercourse, including oral sex, at least on her part. And by now the girl blamed most of this on herself. Oh, some small part of her knew that he was responsible as well, but would any of this have happened if she wasn't so sexy? Of course not. So it must be her fault.
She reached her breaking point the summer she was twelve, and he, fifteen. This had gone on long enough, and guilty as she was, she had to tell someone. She wanted help. She was at camp, Christian camp. She told her counselor. She told, and turned her life into living hell. Because when she told her counselor, and then the camp director, and finally her parents, they believed her when she claimed the blame. Not that he escaped condemnation, no, but she still shouldered the lion's share of responsibility.
But her parents' first reactions gave her hope. Her father admitted his shortcomings as a parent and promised to do a lot better. There were many tears. A lot of restrictions were placed on the girl. The girl was okay with that; she understood the need for consequences, and she certainly didn't want anything happening ever again. And when two nights later, her parents called her to their bedroom and informed her that this would never be mentioned again, she was relieved. She thought she was getting off easy. It wasn't until months later that she realized the truth. Not mentioning it meant not speaking of it directly. It didn't stop her parents from referring to it indirectly every time she did something wrong. It came to be a proof of her utter inability to do anything right, and unspoken testimony of her complete worthlessness. Not mentioning it gave her no chance to seek help, but that didn't matter that much since she didn't deserve any anyway. There was no trust left in her family. Her parents started fighting, and she knew it was her fault. Her mom, never the most trusting, started being suspicious of everyone and everything; the girl recognized and accepted the blame for this as well.
As the years passed, the girl learned the fine art of masking. She didn't call it that; she called it "being all things to all men," not for the purpose of evangelism, no; merely to survive. She lost track of the times she wiped away tears in the car and walked into school with a smile on her face. She lost track, too, of who she was. Everything from the times with him stabbed her over and over, leaving her heart open and bleeding. It was too much, and she buried it deeper and deeper. In so doing, she buried all of her other emotions, and was left floating on a sea of emptiness, drowning in nothingness. Those two, the pain and the nothing, were her whole life. She tried killing herself once, but stopped herself before she swallowed the pills. If she died, she would face God, and she hated God. He did nothing to help her, nothing to relieve the pain. Even though she was to blame, she was sorry, she wanted forgiveness. Eventually she reached the conclusion that what she had done was too bad for even God to forgive, and lost all hope. After all, she knew God was supposed to be the reason for living, but he had forsaken her, and life had no point.
She turned to other things for a while, looking for...something. She knew that what she had done with him had given her something, made her accepted. She turned to those things again. Her mind became a dirtier place than the average porn addict's. She fed it when she could, which was rarely. But she knew this was wrong. She sought help, this time from her youth pastor. He brushed her off, told her of a different counselor, a lady. Have your dad call her, he urged. She understood the awkwardness of gender differences, and asked her dad. She knew she was skirting the edge of "not mentioning it," but she didn't care. She was desperate. Her dad refused. You have to do it on your own, he said, no one else can help you. She believed him, but she knew she wasn't strong enough. So she decided to die. She was no longer afraid of God; she just didn't care anymore. Once more camp rescued her. Once more her parents ignored everything. Once more she sank back down into the pit of darkness. And so it continued.
The girl had no close friends, but she didn't deserve any. She had no thought of marriage, even though she wanted desperately for someone (anyone!) to love her; she knew that no one would ever want her if they knew what she had done. So she resigned herself to a lifetime of pain and tears, sorrow, anguish, regret.
College offered an opportunity for change, but she didn't expect much out of it. All her friends (she had a few, none that close) could talk about was boys and marriage. She hid her pain and gave them advice when they asked it; for some reason, they kept asking. She gave what help she could and caught a glimmer of hope: maybe she was good for something after all. But it wasn't enough to live for. Once more she intended to kill herself. Once more she was talked out of it. The pain grew yet more. Nothing would ease, nothing could relieve it.
Nothing, that is, until one desperate day she picked up a piece of sharp plastic and slashed it across her arm. It hurt, but then a strange thing happened. In the midst of the physical pain, all the emotional pain she had carried for so many years just faded away. For a few priceless hours, she tasted freedom. She bought a knife and did it again. Again she tasted that blessed relief. Freedom from the pain! All it took was the willingness to bleed, and she had that in abundance. She hated her body; seeing it bleed was no great hardship. Soon she was cutting not just for that overwhelming pain, but every normal pain and everyday stress. She worshiped the blade and the blood. It didn't take her long to realize that she had become a slave to the cutting, but she didn't mind. It gave her what she wanted from it, and she was content. She was happy. She knew the reckoning would come some day, but for now, she was free.
Her story doesn't end there. But the many things that come after, expulsion, firing, suicide attempt, mental hospital, marriage, baby, etc, are too new for a "once upon a time" story. Maybe someday that story will be told as well. Not today. Storytime is over for today, my friends.
This is my story. This is my reality. This is my life.

Darkness and Dawn?

You know how victories

Are followed by defeat?

You know how quickly day

Turns into black night?

You know how things looked better

But they were just getting worse?

The darkest night comes

Just before dawn, I thought

I guess the dawn comes

Just before oblivion

I started to see light

Rosy clouds and warm sun

But now I see only pain

Only darkness and black night

Oh My Father

Oh my Father
I yearn for thee
I thirst for thee
I long for thy grace

Oh my Father
I question thee
I mistrust thee
I doubt thy goodness

Oh my Father
Give me faith
Give me hope
Give me trust

Oh my Father
Wipe my eyes
Dry my tears
Draw my heart

Oh my Father
I glimpse thee faintly
I love thee slightly
I need thee forever

Oh my Father
Overwhelm
Overpower
Overcome

Oh my Father
Make me to love thee

I in Nature

The wolf lifts his silver voice
To the moon and howls, alone
He is my brother

The moon shines in her fullness
Lonely in the night sky
She is my sister

The water glistens, undisturbed
By ripple or wave
I am as water

The stone is hard, unbreakable
By force or blow or pain
I will be stone

The owl floats aloft on
Whisper wings, silent in the night
She too is my sister

The sun shines fiercely, daring
An approach to his fiery rays
He too is my brother

Nothing

These are days

When words are few
When my heart is breaking

And life is empty

When I'm floating alone

Lost in the void

When the razor beckons

But I lack the strength

I stare at the abyss

But dare not jump

Then I realize

I already have

And I'm falling

I'm floating

I'm dying alive

No thought for tomorrow

I just barely am

And what was

And what will be

Both so far away

I've only the moment

The stillness

That never ends

I wish for the dark
To see blackness and pain

I wish for the light

For hope and joy springing

For anything I wish

But this nothing

How long can I bear

The grey murky fog

Who knows? Who can?

Time has no meaning

Not in here

So, words come slowly

They mean nothing new

I'm only repeating

What was, and will be

For this is my life

This and the darkness

Oh Father, hear my words

Give me the darkness!

Give me something to feel

Pain or sorrow

Agony and despair

Guilt and shame

Anything but this

Anything but nothing.

O Thou Darkness

O thou darkness
I hate thee
So why dost thou
Tempt me
With thy return?

O thou darkness
Leave off! Desist!
I dare not
Believe thy lies
Thy subtle draw

O thou darkness
Do not bind me
Do not break me
Do not hold me
In thy depths

O thou darkness
Thou has caused me
So much agony
Why does some part
Desire thy renewal?

O thou darkness
What hold hast thou?
What stubborn chains?
Why dost thou
Enslave me?

O thou darkness
Thou hadst thy years
My youth was thine
Leave off! Return
Thou from this pursuit!

O thou darkness
I beg of thee
Turn thou thine ear
Release me, I plead!
Grant me freedom!

I Will Forget

There have been many hurts
But I will forget them
Much pain not intended
So I will forget it
As far as east from west
Has God removed MY sins
And remembers them no more
So I must also forget
Your sins, my friend

Your tiny faults
Your glaring failures
I will forget
Your sinful choices
Your foolish mistakes
I will forget

Forgiveness has been sought
And obtained
So I will forget
I hold no record
Keep no blame
I will forget

It is not easy, this forgetting
My heart wants to keep score
My flesh tally offenses
My mind analyze
But I choose to forget

If you choose
To remember
That is not bad
But it is a choice
If you choose
To remember
Remember also
That forgiveness has been
Asked and granted

But as for me
I will forget

Soul Renewed

To love deeply
To believe truly
To hope purely
These are the things
Renewed in my soul

To find salvation
To cherish freedom
To seek truth
These are God's gifts
Renewed in my soul

To feel joy
To see sunshine
To trust unreservedly
These are now present
Renewed in my soul

To glorify God
To desire service
To humble myself
These things has God
Renewed in my soul