There are many pleasures of working with the youth among our Body of Believers. One that I truly love and dread at the same time are the physical games that we as a youth staff share with them. Some are more mental and strategy oriented while others are meant to stretch one's physical limits for the sake of team work.
The latter was the drive of last night’s activity. We played an excellent version of "Ultimate Frizz be," much like water polo or football. There is a goal at either end of a designated playing field which a team is trying either to protect or score through. The rules are simple however there are may variations that can be found through a Google search. We have played our variation a few times over the last weeks and the youth are getting very good at this game. This means, however, that the staff are in need of being more physical or craftier in order to keep up. I, however, am neither.
All this to say that I sprained my ankle last night.
This is not truly the point of this post. The second two adjectives used in the title are more apt than the first in describing current affairs for myself. I have found myself emotionally drowned for a month or two and this has led to a type of depression in the last couple of weeks. It is a very fleshly cycle that I am all too familiar with and have seen the evolution of over and over. Sometimes I am clearly able to see a path of higher ground before reaching this state through examining the graces of our no less glorious God, however, this time I have ignored them and as a consequence been blinded to those more mountainous trails.
About a week ago I said to myself "Uh, Oh. It's happening, I have to get off this path." I found no ladder or lift to transport me off the steep decline into the deplorable state and am now found. There was however a more treacherous route of escape. It’s been said that “the hand of a friend is God’s hand on lend” and this is just what was required as the first step on this path to Son-light which was just beyond the tree line at that time.
That tree line has now been passed and the remaining path toward relief is even more difficult than the previous. This path is covered with the watery dung of self-pity, indulgence and pride. There is now a trudging required. A trudging through the filth that I myself have laid down.
The time spent on slightly higher ground was spent trying to bury these things which wage war against my soul. The unburyable temptations of the world used is such a crafty way by the devil and the flesh to try to get the believer to fill the valley so that they may never again slip so far. This filth cannot stay covered with earth. It not only rises to the top but brings more sludge with it.
More rubbish to wade through as one tries to cover the old, unconfessed sins with the seeming purity of snow only to find that the snow has been manufactured by the ill-certified self from the same sewer refuse that it is being employed to cover. As this substance melts the filth is again revealed, requiring more vain attempts to mask its hideousness.
That tree line has now been passed and the remaining path toward relief is even more difficult than the previous. This path is covered with the watery dung of self-pity, indulgence and pride. There is now a trudging required. A trudging through the filth that I myself have laid down.
The time spent on slightly higher ground was spent trying to bury these things which wage war against my soul. The unburyable temptations of the world used is such a crafty way by the devil and the flesh to try to get the believer to fill the valley so that they may never again slip so far. This filth cannot stay covered with earth. It not only rises to the top but brings more sludge with it.
More rubbish to wade through as one tries to cover the old, unconfessed sins with the seeming purity of snow only to find that the snow has been manufactured by the ill-certified self from the same sewer refuse that it is being employed to cover. As this substance melts the filth is again revealed, requiring more vain attempts to mask its hideousness.
Such rantings of a sinful wretch can go on and on. I deplore my situation but know that I alone am to blame for it's grossness against my most holy God. Yet I praise Him that I can still say "my most holy God." I am painfully aware that this tie which binds my eternal soul to Him is never to be broken. However I am broken. His love overwhelms me in the knowledge of His wrath that is to be poured on those that are not bound to Him through His most precious and equally holy Son. I am as broken over their damned souls as I am for my wretched heart because I know that the love and blood that covers my mulitiude of sins is not my own. I cannot love myself as much a my wonderous Creator nor is my blood enough to blot out even my one sinful heart's transgressions.
The Saviour alone can rid me of this dark unrest and He alone is faithful to do so.
Forgive me for luring you in with such a simple story of torn ligiments. Along with your forgiveness I also ask for your prayers concerning this valley of vile filth that I am now laboriously trudging out of.
Psalm 23
The LORD is my shepherd,
I shall not want.
He makes me to lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside quiet waters.
He restores my soul;
He guides me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I fear no evil, for You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff,
They comfort me.
Your prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
You have anointed my head with oil;
My cup overflows.
Surely goodness and lovingkindness will follow me all the days of my life,
And I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.
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