Friday, September 11, 2009

A confession

Finally, with a sense of accomplishment but not relief, I finished The Weight of Glory. In the last essay, Lewis compares God to the sea. He writes of his tendency to "dabble and splash" but not to commit his whole self to the water.

In Ted Dekker's book, Black there is a scene where the main character goes to... well, the sea of God. I loved the picture that the scene painted, also comparing God to water, to something live giving and life preserving. In the book, you could breathe underwater. No... that's not right. You could breathe the water. I loved that, and now I know why. It was a picture of what I should want and should be. Completely, totally, swallowed by the depths of my creator. Not just "swimming" there, but completely surrounded by it, inside and outside of me. It was a beautiful picture.

But I'm not like that. I'm a dabbler and splasher, I know I am. If I ever worked up the courage to take a dive, I wouldn't do it without a life-jacket. A death jacket, keeping me from the one thing that I'm meant to do. A life-line, a death-line, tying me to the things that will keep me away from the place I'm supposed to be. But who put on the jacket, who tied the knots? I did. I did.

I don't know when I "got saved". Not really, I know when I prayed for salvation, and when I prayed again, and again, because I was afraid of death and hell. I knew when I turned my back on everything, on the church, as a bunch of hypocrites and simpletons who couldn't explain anything. I know when I stood at the edge of a chasm, my reason bringing me to that edge, but only faith able to take me across. I knew that I stood on that edge for a long time, unable to see the other side, unsure that it was even there. I stood there for so long, behind me my own doubts whispered into my ears, telling me that if I jumped I would only fall, would only be disappointed. I stood there for so long, in front of me, shrouded in mystery, I could hear the voices of those I loved telling me to jump.

But I don't know when I jumped. I only know that somehow I find myself no longer at the edge, and that I didn't run backwards to get to where I am. Perhaps this is why those "simpletons" couldn't answer my questions. I can't. Perhaps its because what happened was something that you had to experience. Maybe because it doesn't make sense.

1 comment:

  1. "If I ever worked up courage to take a dive, I wouldn't do it without a life-jacket. A death-jacket, keeping me from the one thing I'm meant to do."

    Sigh, yes. This is convicting.