Wild Words: Wasteland

Above the earth, I look down. The streets run like veins, pulsing with life, the ebb and flow of strangers, people like me. There. There I am. I feel myself lowering until I hover at the rooftops. What am I doing? From here, it appears that I am just going about my daily routine. But then I am suddenly thrust into my head, beyond the external world, beyond the shapes and colors and fragrances and noises of daily life. I am here, inside my dark mind. And it is here where I tremble.

Thoughts attack my mind like drones. They are not peopled by caring, concerned human beings. They are remotely manned, sent in to do the dirty work. And they are dropping bombs all over my brain. The explosions are coming fast now. Before too long, my mind will just be a wasteland, a massive wreck of what it used to be. Broken. Destroyed. Good for nothing. Needing to be rebuilt. I have to stop the bombs somehow. But how do I do that, when I have no counterattack?

But it’s not just my mind that’s under attack. It’s my heart as well. Destroy one to get to the other. My mind is my fortress, guarding the inner secret passages of my heart. My treasure. The seat of my life-force that keeps me moving, living, breathing. Loving.

But what happens if my mind is destroyed? Then the enemy has instant access to my heart. And while my heart has defenses in place, they’re nowhere near as strong as my mind’s defenses. (Though even those are proving to be weak at the moment.)

What is the purpose in this relentless attack? Why must I suffer the devastation of this war? It leaves me homeless within myself. Surely this is not God-ordained. Do I take the story of Job literally, in that God said, “Yes, destroy my man Job. He loves me so much it doesn’t matter. Take away everything! Watch, you’ll see!”? This is not a God of compassion. That is like tempting fate.

I’ve been thinking about the difference between me with my issues and others with similar issues. Why is it that I keep coming back to God? Over and over again. I still feel that thread tugging on my heart, no matter how dark, no matter how deep I am. And others – I see them walk away. They take that leap that I’ve contemplated so many times but just can’t go through with. WHY? Why is that? What is it that saves me but not my friend? Is it really just my choices? Or is there something deeper? Does God really pre-ordain who goes to heaven and who goes to hell? Or is it all a choice? Sometimes, I feel like I have no choice. Because I always choose God. But I do have a choice. I just have steadfastly declared that I will not turn my back on Jesus. I cannot deny him, because I have experienced him. I may have doubts about other things, I may not have all the answers, but this much is true: I will not deny Jesus Christ. I cannot. He courses through my veins, sustaining, uplifting, upholding me.