So here’s the truth: the god that I have believed in for much of my life does not exist. Yes, it’s true. And there’s a good chance that the god you have believed in does not exist either.
But let me explain a little bit about this god I have believed in:
First, this god that I have believed in does not allow suffering…well, maybe he does for others, especially bad people and those who live in other parts of the world, but certainly not for me. But this god obviously does not exist because I have definitely experienced my share of suffering – maybe not nearly as bad as others, but enough to occasionally make my life miserable and difficult at times…and much of it since I became a believer. And anything less than the most comfortable existence for me is certainly too much; so my god of “no suffering” does not exist. Continue reading
This is yet another unplanned post, but as I’ve reflected a lot on my 4 a.m. post (as well as some of the others) I thought I would share. Many responded through comments on the blog, Facebook or through private messages offering words of support and prayer. As a result, in the midst of what our family has been going through I felt deeply strengthened and encouraged because the overall message I received was, “You are not alone.”
Not alone, first, because so many were willing to come alongside my family in a time of struggle. Being transparent can be a scary thing – so it means a lot when afterwards, instead of receiving the condemnation we often manage to convince ourselves we’re going to get, we receive words more along the lines of “I understand” and “I am with you.”
But not alone also because several responded with their own personal stories of struggle, letting me know that I’m not alone in this mess. In fact, after receiving several comments and private messages since starting this blog and, after having been throughout the years a part of so many different men’s groups, home groups, and various other relationships where inevitably others begin to confess the mess in their lives, I’ve become convinced of one thing: we all have our stuff. We all have messes. Continue reading
I’m writing this just a little after 4 in the morning. I confess this was not within my plan. All of my other posts have been meticulously planned out in my head for months, each with a certain timing, a certain purpose – all part of a much greater plan. But not this one. I had never planned, or even hoped, to write it at all, and certainly not on a different day of the week. I don’t even know that I even have anything specific to teach or that there’s a point – just some random, and perhaps desperate, 4 am thoughts.
But I promised I would be honest and real…and so here I am. You see just after 7am my youngest son, Chase, will be getting up, or perhaps he may not. For the past week it has been quite a struggle and it’s starting to become routine. We wake him up to get ready for school, and sometimes he gets going and sometimes he does not – almost always I end up spending anywhere from 30 minutes to hours, encouraging him that he can make it through at least this day. Welcome to depression. Continue reading