The space of what is and the space of things I created with my imagination and repetitive thought loops. What is the use of the imagination–the right and intended use? Visualizing a world full of echelons of demonic forces all intent upon destroying me and ensnaring me into eternal perdition is always a destructive activity. To even laughingly pretend that someone is at least partially (in their subconscious) under the spell of demonic forces that are guiding them to say or do things that thwart my ability to fully realize myself as the human being God intended me to be–is to make it so, at least for me, and to make me into a madman convinced that the outside world is hopelessly unassailable for one who would practice peace.
To be for sure, there are those who have embraced demonic entities of violence because these people are under the misguided notion that they obtain some kind of power that will sustain itself past their deaths. Or, they feel that death will end it all for them completely and utterly, and therefore, it is not so bad to invite a little bit of violent demonic power into their short, finite lives. But these individuals are focused on their own glory or power, not upon my special destruction. If I get in their way, there may be problems, but I am not being actively sought by anyone for specific, intentional harm.
It is much better to simply say: this person or thing is this way, and this one is that way, and keep an open door for those whose ways are similar to mine. My way is not a special way in the sense that I am in some way better than all other sentient beings. My way is only special in the sense that I am a unique child of God. This is meant to be a comfort, not a means of initiating a program of lording myself over others and turning my ego into a monstrosity.
My way is mostly a way of figuring out how to be a soul that is helpful to other souls who would accept some degree of help from me. And, all help that I have to give comes from the Spirit. Any help that I can offer as a man apart from the grace of God is negligible. I see no need to get up on a pedestal and say to others: you should be doing this, you shouldn’t be doing that. If there is an individual whose behavior is clearly out of line to the point of being potentially a manifestation of evil, that individual is to be taken aside in private and questioned and rebuked. If that person has no interest in changing their behavior, and it is clearly evil, then they can be handed over to the law where they are doing something unlawful and handed over to Satan, where they have sought to walk a Satanic path instead of a righteous, Christian one.
My way has no place in earthly kingdoms. I do not seek to assert myself as a holder of power in my society. There are unofficial kinds of power that are conferred to me, and these should be held lightly and rightly–such as parenthood and adulthood. I have no business getting worked up over who is President or what our government is doing. Because it is not Christ’s kingdom, our government carries with it an inevitable amount of evil. It has a legacy of evil that was necessary for it to become a legitimate source of power in the eyes of other people. If our government had chosen at its inception to abolish slavery and permit Native Americans to have entire states unto themselves, it would have likely died and been subsumed by a mightier European or Asian state. However, this doesn’t make what it did right in the eyes of Christ. We of later generations still carry some blood upon us, and we can only find atonement through Christ.
Christ would have us try to live harmoniously within the constraints of our national government unless this government becomes completely the instrument of the Antichrist, and participation in this society requires the Mark of the Beast. But, until then, I don’t believe that Christ would have us looking to government (either an existing status quo that keeps us middle class whites comfortable or a hypothetically more libertarian or socialist government that distributes power differently) to solve our problems.
At the very least, I personally have too many internal ills and maladies from a sin sick soul to be going about the business of telling my government how it should conduct its affairs. Further, it becomes a mere illusion when you actively engage in protest and this illusion fills the time you could have spent fixing your own self.
My self was broken. I couldn’t fix myself until I was willing to admit that it was broken, and only Jesus could fix it. Before this admission, I was simply pretending that I wasn’t so bad, measuring myself against a handful of cherry-picked souls who appeared to be in worse shape than me. I was broken, damaged goods. Nobody would have me as a friend or lover during those years, because the disease of the soul manifested itself in my body language and uncontrolled bursts of anger.
Jesus began to show me just how much of the broken pieces were worth repairing through his grace and healing power, and how many of the broken pieces were better left to be exorcised completely.
The only way in which the new day begins with all of your past accompanying you is from you insisting that you can’t live a single day without bringing along your past with you. You are certain that if you completely allowed your past to be put to bed for good, that you would lose some intrinsic piece of yourself. And you are probably correct. The hole created by that intrinsic piece can be filled by Christ’s Love, though, if you allow it.
My problem is that I take my hooks and try to put them into that love. I take my hooks and try to put them into others, or into a happy moment in life. I think that the appropriate way to fill myself up with something good is by psychically and spiritually grabbing onto that thing and yanking it into myself and holding onto it with all of my might. I then become caught up in a hopeless mission to dictate and control how my possessed things look and behave. I am, in effect, trying to play God by insisting on things remaining as they were when I first affixed myself to them. I cannot accept any change taking place. This becomes a demonic sort of activity: seizing a finite thing and willing it to be infinite and infinitely mine.
When viewed with a certain light, this can seem to be simply foolish and childish–a pattern of behavior from childhood that the adult self needs to abolish. But, it shouldn’t be let off so easily. This kind of activity can become deeply destructive to the health of my soul, and it will eventually bubble over to my phsyical self and the outside world of connections that I make.
I am not the smartest person in the room, ever. I am never above the human problems that are presenting themselves to me. I will choose not to put my hooks into others’ problems, because a diseased physician isn’t helpful or wanted. But, I won’t set myself on a lofty perch above others’ problems, either.
Is the notion of falling in love with someone obsessively a misguided twentysomething romantic notion from our culture? People of the generation after mine seem like they can be at times sickeningly sentimental and other times brazen and cold when it comes to how they talk about love. I think that this generation of newly minted adults and the ones that follow it will be looked back upon by future generations as being too childlike and unwilling to grow up.
It’s the definition of what it means to be a grown-up that has to change. Nobody really likes the idea of ending up being just like their parents, and so they resist many healthy forms of growing up in the process of avoiding becoming their parents. But, they will grow old, just like every generation before them. They will wring their hands at the sight of their first white hairs and wrinkles, and many will pretend they just aren’t aging at all.
I never wanted a wisdom that was predicated upon the dictates of local societal mores and norms. In other words, I seek a timeless wisdom that can be applied to many different times and places where humans came together to try to live their lives in a decent fashion. I don’t find this type of wisdom very often. Too many people see only their own generation and perhaps one or two on either side of their generation.
Is it impossible to love many other individuals with a simple and complete sort of love? A piece of God’s eternal Love, if you will, but a piece that is pure, chaste, untainted by any sort of expectations of reciprocity. Can I love someone of the opposite sex and keep my sexuality completely out of the equation? I certainly hope I can get to this place. After all, it should come naturally that I am capable of loving all kinds of people who would never under any circumstance be appropriate sexual partners–so, then, the handful of people who our society would deem okay for me to have an affair with, independent of any particular religious or local ethics, should be people I can freely love the same way I love children, animals, the elderly, the poor, disabled, etc.
I want to finally reach the day where I utterly and completely know it in my soul (to where I no longer even dream tainted dreams) that the only person I love with sexuality attached to it is my wife. This requires hijacking my biology and years of imagining every single woman was potentially a sexual partner. Old habits die hard, but they will indeed die if I persist with my will toward an ordered, right sort of relation with members of the opposite sex.
The process of aging has allowed me to find greater amounts of empathy for many more kinds of people. The prospect of living a life where I use lots of women, or I become a woman who uses lots of men, is an immature vision kept alive by its ability to titillate and arouse me to such a degree as to help me “get off” from the madness of it all. The end result is a negative energy supply, and I am stripped of my finer emotions and ability to empathize with others. The only positive outcome of this kind of behavior is that I feel absolutely unqualified to ever judge someone’s sexual orientation or practices as if I were sinless and they were not.
My life has been an unfortunate series of terribly inaccurate models made by my imagination, where I then expect reality to conform with the imagined model because I am afraid of reality. Reality becomes a thing to escape from or attempt to violently impose my will upon. There is no reality that graciously accommodates my fantastic models where no struggle takes place. There are no humans in this reality who want to be subhuman for the sake of appeasing my horrible models. Human beings, male and female, want to be fully realized, dignified human beings who may or may not agree with anything I have to say.
I spent my childhood and young adult years refusing to allow myself to get to know girls and women, because I didn’t want to really know who they were as human beings. As sex objects and two dimensional automatons in my theater churned up by the imagination, they were there to always validate my insistence on being the grand master or king of the story. If I refused to get to know any women at all, then I could pretend that there must be some who met my evil standards out there “somewhere.”
And so it generally became the way I spent my time having non-relationships with all human beings. The less I actually knew of you, the more I could love you in a sick, codependent sort of way. The more of your will to be loved as a human being showed itself, the unhappier I grew because I had no desire to be an imperfect human being in love with another imperfect human being. Needless to say, most of my friends and lovers remained inside my head or in books and self-indulgent escapes in writing.
The woman I could claim to have had the longest crush on was not the real flesh and blood version of her that abides today somewhere in the Northeast. I simply took her name, face and body and a few superficial features of her personality, and appropriated them for my own fantasy life.