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Journey of the Jobless: Torn Apart


It was not long ago that the world seemed to be spinning in a direction I understood. Time seemed meaningful, and every second had a defined purpose. One minor tweak to my projection of where my life is heading and it is as if every second has lost the meaning it once held. Why is it that time seems to move much slower when things do not stay the same? Perhaps it is not merely hoping things stay the same that is the issue, but that the seconds are used for activities I had not anticipated. Many argue that lacking to have anything taking up that space in the form of distraction generates free time that, from a less distracted perspective, causes time to pass longer than previously perceived. However, I find that argument to be preposterous and, frankly, unfulfilling.


My soul does not care to admit that the seconds that seem to tick slower are just as full as before a drastic change occurred in my life. Though angry with that realization, I now see the problem. It is not how busy I was when those seconds passed or the seconds' seeming lack of meaning as my status shifted. No, those explanations are too simple, and that rationale lacks accountability to the truth. Despite how little my soul cares to admit this, I once placed such value in the actions that would fill those seconds that, when removed, allows the seconds to reflect the loss of hope I once had in the future.


Do I feel this way currently? With careful humility, I must begrudgingly admit that, despite my sinful desire to place hope in even the very seconds that provide no real meaning to my life, the Lord has protected me from such an unrighteous burden. Nevertheless, there have been many times in my life where I have felt that the precious seconds I had carefully ordered to benefit me now serve no purpose. Cautiously I arranged the seconds as if they would be subject to my will despite the fact each second does not yield to my will when determining when it shall pass. However, though grateful I am that each second no longer chains me in bondage to finding value in the time allotment provided, I have felt each tick of my watch pull me apart in a way I cannot fully describe.


Slowly the devil is picking each ligament of my limbs, snaping the connecting tendons like a rubber band, pulling me apart. Even the Lord in His wisdom pries things from my cold, lifeless hands to restore breath in my life lost to the objects I have clung to as a blockade to separate our relationship. Painful and slow, the Lord removes the items that plague my soul. Tactical and efficient, the devil strikes the core of my being, hoping to wedge anything between God and me. In an unfathomable fashion, things are tearing apart.


Oh, my soul, be careful to parallel the Lord's provision and the schemes of the devil. Each has an agenda, but only one for eternity. The devil and the Lord give and take for different reasons. The Lord of His glory; the devil for our glory. From an outsider's perspective, one may side with the very evil that has plagued humanity as the better of the two agendas; however, my soul, do not equate my glory with my good. If God removes for His glory, that means it is for my good. If the devil for our glory, it means for my damnation.


Oh, my soul, why in a burdensome time do you seek to isolate from all known truth? Because in every passing second, my soul desires to embrace glorification, not condemnation. If only you knew, my soul, or even had the slightest idea of the truth, that no glorification could some without some sense of condemnation, you may just have found the very mustard seed the Savior alluded to all those years ago. Running from the Truth, even with the feigned acknowledgment of its validity juxtaposed with ignoring the need for a relationship with the Truth, is a fool's errand. What is so wretched within me that I, even knowing all that I lack, cannot fix the very problems that present themselves? Such a harrowing question, yet the most extraordinary evidence of the overestimation of my ability to overcome hardship while also foolishly pretending that I am worthy of a life without suffering.


Lately, I cannot answer questions because I am not patient enough to discover the answer by experiencing Truth. What good is knowledge without the relationship? What good is joy without sorrow? The devil tempts me in the opposite direction that the Lord leads me. I love Him, but my foolish heart yearns to sin. Friends rally around, and I cannot handle their admonishment. Love seems to partner with hate to shame me for my selfish sorrows. Limping, I cannot bear to listen to another cry from a half-hearted spirit, wondering if it will get better when their hope is in the hopeless. Anger swells within as I demand others to see the world the way I do, only to realize the way I see the world is just as broken, perhaps more so, because I have the blessing of knowing better. Despite knowing better, I champion the arrogance of not acknowledging the guilt of my unrighteous view.


If the world is to pull me apart, may my soul emerge from the flesh torn shell in which it resides. If I am to truly experience the beauty of the gospel, I should not be surprised when the very pain of the gospel resonates in my broken life. The gospel was not written as folklore that we reflect upon as a story we are glad we do not have to endure. If Jesus is living, a truth that even the unbeliever and demon would admit, then so shall His adversaries live until His return. Oh my soul, do not be surprised that we are torn apart in a world that promises that the pieces will fall in place if we are optimistic. Casinos make money on the very idea that if we play long enough, the cards will turn in our favor. However, I am not merely acknowledging the folly of such an absurd rationale, but I am beginning to experience that no circumstance I face truly reflects the goodness of God in Christ Jesus. If God must strip my job, family, money, friends, and relationships to demonstrate that His providential wisdom resides above my circumstances and that His goodness will never be shaken, so be it. Worthy is God of my trust and pursuit, no matter the hardship I face. May I not be a believer who rests His hat on the Cross, only to ignore that I know the man hanging on it. If I must be pulled apart so His Spirit can pierce through my broken flesh and restore in me a right relationship, then to God be the glory. May my trust not be circumstantial and my worship conditional.


Pull me apart, oh Lord, that my soul might be all that remains and my condemning heart cleansed by your righteousness. Pull me apart from all that stands in the way of your beauty that I might be set free to follow you. Who am I to remain in one piece as You were torn in two? Who am I to cling to the very things from which You set me free?

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