Learning to Run

Written June 28, 2018

I have never felt so alone in my entire life, and I have always been alone. There has always been a huge gulf between me and others. Even in laughter, the heart has been sorrowful, but in that silence and emptiness, there was the illusion of friendship.

I had taken comfort in that illusion, like a child with an imaginary friend.

Reality has hit hard- naked, stark and raw, unsoftened by any illusions.  And that reality is far more desolate than I feared. It seems I can count every second. Hours of silence pass before the next tick of the watch. Often my labored breathing is the only normal sound I hear. Everything else is distorted.  I can barely hear the Spirits voice over the sound of the screaming but no one else seems to be able to hear me. The sounds of my stubborn will breaking crash in counterpoint to the rending of my soul as the extent of the destruction in my life becomes clear.

Perhaps I’m not really alone, but it is an odd feeling to be present for your own funeral. Nobody knows what to say to a corpse, and so they say nothing.

I know I am forgiven by God, and others have offered their forgiveness as well. And I eagerly embrace those offers of forgiveness. But forgiveness doesn’t fix anything, it does not bind a wound or a heart. I am like a man condemned in prison, forgiven by his victims but still looking at 20 years of solitary confinement.

I’m afraid the silence might kill me.

Imagine running a busy Walmart, filled with merchandise and people. Noise, motion, deadlines, and deals are the order of the day.

And then one day you are served notice that due to your failures they are closing the store. They shoo out the people, take all the goods and furnishings and fire the employees. They lock the doors and turn off the lights. And you are left alone in an empty shell jumping at shadows in the gloom and desperate to get out.  Because the only things left in there with your are the memories.  And they are not friendly at all.  No, these memories are savage.  And so you huddle in the corner-hoping that at least your back is covered and tremble at every slight sound in the vast not-quite-silent-enough warehouse.

In this story, the man keeps his personality. It seems that all I get is the Bible and a command to start over. But I am not quite alone. He Who Will Not Leave Me is still here. It must be enough. It will be enough.

I wish it were not so silent on the outside of my tomb.  And I wish it was really quiet inside this tomb.

I’m silent – but I’m screaming.

CPH

Psalm 55:4-5 My heart is sore pained within me: and the terrors of death are fallen upon me. Fearfulness and trembling are come upon me, and horror hath overwhelmed me.