The Contrast
My Complicated Friend,
Last week I brought up your beginning and advised you to begin the awkward process of reflecting on the world you were born into. I trust that if you did that, the exercise quickly catapulted your mind into a few dark and twisted elements of your childhood that could be reasonably assessed as the genesis of your ruin. I trust that your mind took those memories and ruminated on them for a few moments, until you spiraled a little too far and decided the only solution was to revert to your forgetting of those things that remain unspoken.
I trust that your past scares you as much as mine scared me.
I’m not ready for you to begin divulging your childhood trauma yet, and I don’t think you want to. That’s okay. Healing happens slowly, and a lot of times, a person has no clue how much healing must take place until after they’ve already begun the process.
You see, it’s not just about remembering things that happened to you.
It’s about expressing every emotion you were forced to repress when those things occurred.
It’s about acknowledging the way you took the flames inflicted upon you and passed the torch to someone else who wasn’t equipped to carry it either.
It’s about remembering those things that happened before you were here, and realizing this cycle you’re trapped in of perpetual and generational scandal and trespass has been neither your choice, nor the defeated ground on which your testimony stands.
It’s about so much more than just remembering the past.
It’s about acknowledging EVERYTHING no heart but God’s will ever have the strength to bear.
That’s why we can’t start there.
Instead, I have a simple question:
When you reflect on the way you feel about how your life began, do you still feel that same way about your life?
I’m sure the exact circumstances differ, but has your resentment or gratitude remained steady?
If your feelings are the same even though the circumstances have changed, have you ever wondered why?
I know sometimes my questions seem elementary, but they aren’t. I’m not simply asking if you like your spouse, or your house, or your job, or your kids. I’m asking if you enjoy being alive more or less today than you did back then.
So, which is it?
More or less?
Don’t think, just answer!
See what I mean? The question is simple. A fifth grader could’ve written it. But I bet you have no clue how to answer it.
The fact is, the way you feel about your life probably isn’t as straightforward as you’d like it to be. Some days are okay. Others are great. And some are heavy enough that you start contemplating eternal rest, and wondering how you can get there sooner.
Considering all of these things, go back to the original question. When you think about your feelings toward the beginning of your story, and you contrast those feelings with how you feel about your life now, has anything ever changed?
Has anything ever actually gotten harder or easier?
Or do you just wake up every day and convince yourself to act a certain way for the sake of your own survival?
Do you actually feel things anymore?
Or do you only feel so strongly about your childhood because that’s the last time you felt anything at all?
You want to know what I think?
I think you’re numb.
I think the emotional abuse and inconsistent fluctuations of this wicked atmosphere of sin we call our temporary home have numbed you.
And I think you don’t fully feel anything anymore.
Let that sink in, and notice your lack of genuine emotion as things happen in your life throughout this week.
Until next time… I’ll be thinking of you,
