How much longer will winter last? It was too cold, now too hot. I’m depressed and frustrated…AGAIN! It’s been such a long cold winter living in a 4 x 5 box. Wasn’t this trip about getting out of the box? There’s no heat, no electricity, no shower, no toilet, only a spastic dog, who is just as tired of this situation as I am. I should be thankful for the 70º days. But what can I do with Princess? She can’t stay in the car so I won’t be able to work. Gurr.
I ask you lord for clouds, cold or rain but only sunny warm days are ahead. I want to give up. But do I really? So I say to God “this is it, no more, I don’t know what you want from me.” Joyce says if you don’t sense God leading in a new direction then stay where he told you to be last. “But lord I can’t do that. I can’t live in Wal-Mart parking lots because I can’t work, because I can’t leave Princess alone in a steamy van. What do you want from me? Déjà vu? “Haven’t I been through this whole ‘I’m mad at God’ thing before?”
By the time I walk from my van to the bathroom I realize “how can I have a life without God”. That is an emptiness I can’t bear, “there’s no life apart from Jesus”. There is a darkness of the mind and heart that consumes the soul. There is nothing worth living for; no peace, no purpose, no heart, no beauty. That is a life that’s unbearable. Without Christ there is only existence. The light, the life, which makes us who we are, is gone. When our souls are barren we can’t give birth to new life or influence others with the light that brings life.
I have experienced this sense of loss three times in my life, each one revealing my consuming desire to be part of Him. Only now do I realize the deep impact of his light in me. “There is no life outside of Christ”. How many times have I heard these words, said these words, believed these words, but to experience them for myself, to understand them in the depths of my soul makes me crave His presence more deeply than ever.
“…humans are not defined by their limitations, but by the intentions that I have for them; not by what they seem to be, but by everything it means to be created in my image.” William Young, “The Shack”