† Tuesday, October 07, 2008
emo post, if you're uncomfortable around christian things too, just avoid this one .
found my way back to God last saturday .
went home, put my bag, took my bible, knelt down and pray for the first time in a long time .
i just felt so wretched, so lost, so sinful .
really poured out all my hurts to God, begged for His forgiveness .
but the saddest thing, which i think the Holy Spirit was telling me, was that this wasnt the first time .
this was not the first time i ran away from God, and end up on my knees begging for His forgiveness .
this was not the first time God took me back, relit the faith in me, and saw me falter slowly away again .
i must have been like the prodigal son for, what, 6 times already?
which father can accept that?
and that was one of the few times i was truly, truly awed by His greatness .
He always forgives, as long as your heart is true, always welcoming and caring when there are so many, so so many, other better deserving children for Him to pay attention to .
i wept, out of fear or out of relieve, i dont know .
i was afraid that He would turn away from me, and i know that no one in their right mind will accept the pain i dealt to God .
i was relieved, that God can help me again .
God knows very clearly i had came back for help .
not out of fear, out of faith, but pure mercenary desires .
He knows .
and i know .
which is perhaps why i keep falling away .
how is it, that from the purest love and faith, came the blackness of mercenary desires ?
how is it that a person who truly, truly, vowed to follow God especially since He had granted the miracle of 20 points for O levels when the person scored double that for prelims, fell away from his vow, and now is back asking for the same miracle for his As?
i've blamed everything possible .
i blamed my church, for not accepting me, for not noticing the boy in adult's service instead of the youth service .
i blamed my family, for not forcing me to go church, for not being strong christians .
i blamed my friends, for not noticing i needed them to help me find a church .
i blamed God, for creating me in the first place .
i blamed satan, and i can bet he was laughing merrily away below, holding the chains to my shackles of sin .
i blamed everything and everyone .
i turned bitter, building up false walls of what i thought people were thinking bout me .
satan stood beside me all the while, passing me the bricks of deception and the mortar of sin .
and i build, build and build till all i could see was the small hole of light way above me .
i cant feel, hear, or care about anything happening outside .
and suddenly it struck me .
that was my heart i was building around .
now my heart is turned to stone, i cant feel anything and blame the outside world for what i had constructed with my own hands .
i had literally built my own private hell, so steep, so strong, i can never climb out .
so satan, using laziness, lured me to continue my build .
now i dug, deeper and deeper, away from everything, away from God, misjudging the warmth of sins for the warmth of love .
and then suddenly, i uncovered skeletons of my past .
skeletons showing where i was before Christ, where i was when i had last fell so far away .
and again, i begged .
God help, please, forgive me, get me out of here .
and always, He came, through the small hole, flying me out and into the open .
i dont know whether He was happy doing so, or crying out of hurt, knowing i'd hurt Him again .
He placed me in the open again .
and suddenly, the many towers i had constructed dotted the horizon .
i can spy the great fat castle in the distance of my youth .
i can see the shorter wells and walls when i was stronger in Christ .
and i can see the growing height of each tower since then .
the latest one i had constructed was almost to the height of the old fat castle .
and God just stood beside me(i hope)trying to wake me up .
show me the sins i had built .
and how many times had He lifted me out .
and getting the brief moment of fresh air, i started unconciously building up my foundations of sin again .
i'm so used to it now .
my heart is so used to the stone, so used to feeling nothing except self pity and bitterness, now cant sense God at all .
that was the first brick .
satan handed me the second, and third, my econs paper, my maths paper .
and i started again .
now i can visualize standing within a knee high wall .
yet the many chains of sin are so heavy that i cant reach out to feel God .
i can only feel His blessings as He tried to reach out to me .
but i cant feel Him .
i cant feel any ounce of the conviction and faith i had .
i cant feel any bit of connection with God .
my heart has turned to stone .
i cant feel anything except for myself anymore .
The Story of The Living Stones :
Sometime in American history, a bunch of farmers came together to build a small gathering place to worship God as the nearest church was too far from their fields and family. their building was simple but sturdy, like each of the farmers. there were no good wood to build the building, yet they had created something strong out of straw and mud. as their village grew, so did the "church" congregation. so they decided to hire a stonemason to construct a larger and stronger structure, a true church building.
the polish stonemason requested that they gather all the rocks and stones they can find into a large pile at the age of the site. the steadfast farmers did as they were told. when the polish stonemason arrived, he immediately started his task. taking one of his many hammers, he started hammering lightly at each rock, tossing some to the right, into the middle of the site and others to his left, away from the site. curious, the villagers gathered to observe his steady process. finally, someone decided to ask him what was he doing. the stonemason explained how some stones are "dead" while others are "living". those of the "dead" are impossible to work with, stubborn to till end, and those he would not waste time with. the "living" stones however, can be shaped to one's desires, to fit into the body of the church. those are the stones he would work with to build their church.
the church was completed eventually and true to the craftsmanship of that era, it stood strong and stable, with no other support except that of the stones supporting each other to hold the structure up. every sunday, the stones of the church building can enjoy the songs. every now and then, happy occassions like weddings or sadder yet powerful ones like funerals touch them. and now and then, the church gets a scrub-down, leaving each stone bright and glistening, almost in happiness at being so clean and fresh. yet all this time, the pile of dead stones stold where they were, baked in the sun, froze in the cold, animals used them as digestives or a scratching post. children threw them around, stomping and flinging them against everything. and sooner or later, through wear and tear, the dead stones eventually crumble into dust, into nothing. while the stones of the church, although now covered with vines and weeds, still had each other for support and company. and that church was discovered again eventually, and restored to its former glory. while the dusts of the dead stones continued swirling round and round, nothing for them to settle on for long, or to finally attain rest.
help me .
snippets . @ 6:37 AM
