Makes me happy.
Yes, but so does booze.
Makes me feel fulfilled.
Yes, but so does art, music, books and nature.
Gives me peace.
Yes, but so do some drugs and a nice hot shower.
Gives me hope.
Yes, but so does my child and stories of people helping each other.
Makes me feel like I am not alone.
Yes, but so does my wife, friends and extended family.
But, what about the days when loved ones are far away, all of the news is bad news, the drugs aren’t working, the booze gives me a nasty hangover, the shower is cold, and so are the art, music, books and nature?
Am I enough by myself to soldier myself onward alone until the good things of life come back around again? I was when I was twenty-five, but not at thirty-five. All of the above, except Jesus, started to seem either beyond my reach (in the case of wife, friends, family, and future child), or empty and one-dimensional.
Jesus Christ was there to meet me when I was sad, unfulfilled, angry, upset, hopeless and lonely. Other things and people were as well, but all of them added up together still didn’t amount to as much as the presence of Jesus did. The more I embraced Jesus, the more of Him there seemed to be for me. His love was boundless, but mine was not. Nor was my capacity to receive love.
My capacity to receive love was still so low, because I was still so full of myself. I still thought that filling me up with me would make me into the kind of man who could take on life. Of course, each time I filled myself up with me, I always met men and women with bigger egos who could knock me down, and I always scared away the humble ones who were full of something else other than themselves.
I need to experience the fullness of Christ before beginning to write. I am hopelessly caught up in writing in the first person when I try to put down whatever is happening inside or out, but I can at least begin to seem less self-centered, if I see Christ when I look inside me, then hopefully I will in turn produce words that are less about me and more about Christ and those whom he loves, of which I am but one.