You have to decide that you want to live and be alive. I can’t do that for you. God knows I’ve already tried.
I can help. Those who know me know that. I am all for you. I want you to succeed. But I can’t choose for you. I can’t make you choose life.
You have to decide for yourself. You have to want it. Want more. Or at least take steps in that direction even if you don’t believe it right now.
You don’t have to feel like doing it. You just have to start taking the steps. The feelings will catch up eventually. Maybe not how you want it to happen. But something good will be there for you.
Make it a great day. In spite of. There is plenty, but make today better than yesterday. Do something. Anything.
You have the power to bring more happiness into your life. But you have to choose.
Will you do that today? Or will you keep sitting down? Demanding life conform to that same story you’ve been telling yourself for how long?
No condemnation, but you get to choose. What will it be? What will we make of tomorrow? Will you do at least one thing different? At least try? Or will you give me another million reasons for why you refuse to move and try something new?
What if God is for you? Does that make any difference? Honestly? Isn’t there still always hope if that is true?
I woke up from a dream where I was the fourth person in the front of a pickup truck driving down a road. My grandmother was to my right and my grandfather was to her right. He was being snappy and not in a good mood. Bringing down the vibe. So I asked him in front of everyone, “Grandpa, why are you being so cantankerous?” My grandma laughed out loud; kinda impressed that I’d dare to call him out. In front of everyone.
But before he could answer, I said, “I know why you are being cantankerous. I can tell you, but it is sad. Do you want me to tell you?”
They wanted to know. So I said through even tears at the end, “You are grieving. The whole world is grieving right now. The loss of a world and a life we thought we knew. The loss of a story we thought we were living. It is not there anymore. It is gone. And we are all grieving.”
Then I woke up.
I think it is true. I think collectively we are all thiiiiiiiis close to the edge. It’s pretty amazing if you think about the potential and how actually well we’ve been doing in not completely losing it. Some people yes, but I think the majority get up every morning and make a conscious decision to keep going, give it what they’ve got, and not give up. Most likely for the love they have for at least one someone. Even if it is “just” a pet that would miss them.
I think that’s incredibly honorable. I think that speaks a lot on the potential and good that still remains. If only we’d wake up. And stop consuming what is killing us.
But even then, I’ve come to the conclusion that this human experience must not be the pinnacle to cling to.
Hear me out.
I have to briefly go back to 2017 when I learned two things.
One, that Holy Spirit was referred to using feminine words in the Bible. Nobody ever told me that in over 30 years!! Sitting in pews, listening to preachers, year after year, month after month, week after week, day after day. Not one! Not one pastor ever talked about the significance of the Holy Spirit being referred to with feminine words. It wasn’t until I heard William Paul Young talk about it that my eyes started to open. The ramifications we’re huge and many.
The second thing I learned is that in many ancient manuscripts, the words translated “who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit” are not included in what we label as Romans 8:1. That was huge to me because that particular sentence was a big part of my journey.
So how could You let there be imperfect teachers and imperfect translations, God? How could You expect anyone to get it right when You haven’t provided a perfect manual? Because You could; You could provide a perfect manual. You could write it on even the sky for us all to see. Somehow, some way You could do it. But You don’t, so what gives?
Maybe a perfect translation isn’t the point. Maybe getting it right isn’t the point.
Maybe relationship is the point. Maybe the questions remain specifically so that they will draw us to The Real Answer? For our hearts, souls, and spirits. Not just our minds.
So back to grieving and this human experience. I have started to look at it with similar logic. God could have Created an experience where there is no death. Where nothing dies. But Trinity didn’t do that. So that leaves me to believe that this human experience is not something to cling to.
The more I learn about God, the more I see that Trinity puts pictures all around us. I think to help and comfort us.
So I wonder, maybe this human experience, where we are so spiritually blind and deaf, I wonder if it can be compared to the experience of developing in the womb?
The baby in the womb hasn’t known anything else. Has no real knowledge of real life outside the womb except for hearing some sounds that make it through the barrier kinda muffled. How is that any different than us now? We think this little floating rock in outer space is everything. All we’ve known. But yet most have experienced some interaction with Something outside of what we can see and quantify.
I wonder if the baby thinks it is dying when it is being pushed out of the only home it has ever known? Is that also a picture for us? We think that when we leave this earth, we call it an end. But what if this human experience is just a beginning like the nine months a developing child is in the womb?
The baby is usually born into a room with lots of bright lights that they have never seen before. Shocking. Is that also a picture for us? How many times have you heard someone with a near-death experience say that they saw “the light” when they started to go over to the other side?
What comforts me? A baby can’t even conceptualize the enormity of all the possibilities that await it outside the womb. The existence inside was so dark and limited. Maybe, hopefully the same awaits us. When we can finally know as we are known. Maybe that’s why nobody comes back for good. Because real life is on the other side. And it is so much better.
So although I can appreciate this human experience, I no longer cling to it. I know longer take it so seriously. I only want to enjoy as much of it as possible. I only want to get out of it as much as I’m supposed to get. And give as much as I can give while I am here to do that.
But I no longer worship this experience as if it is the main thing. Or even the last chance.
And then this grieving business. I am comforted personally by picturing a baby again. How at some point it starts to outgrow the womb. The time comes where it needs more. And so with us here on this earth. We call people old souls. Maybe that is truer than not. Maybe we reach a point where we’ve fully developed in this world. Where we’ve outgrown this experience. Where our hearts LONG to be on the other side. Where we really belong. And so then at some point we get pushed out of this experience and into the next.
I only cry for those of us who are left behind in the sense of being temporarily unable to interact in the physical the same way we used to with those we love and miss.
And my hope is that all is for healing. Even the loss of what we are grieving. Maybe like the seasons and like the sun, darkness reveals a new day. Maybe some of the things we held onto needed to go to make room for a better story. I’m not talking specifically about people, but maybe them also in some cases.
We can generalize and ask to see what good is coming out of this collectively. Please do that, is my recommendation. But even more importantly, what about for each of us personally? I can’t answer that barely even for myself; so for sure no one else. But ask. I encourage you to ask Spirit for some clarity. Some comfort in the midst of all of this. Ask and it will be given to you, seek and you will find. Knock and the door will be opened.
This is a Father who feeds His children. Who doesn’t do abandonment. Who never gives a slap when approached for a hug. Who isn’t too busy for you.