Papa Can You Hear Me?

Do you ever have that dream where you're trying to yell or scream at someone to get their attention because they or you were in danger? Your mouth is forming the words but they came out as a whisper or a hoarse cry? No matter how much air you put into your lungs, it doesn't get above a soft voice and the target doesn't hear and usually walks away...

I've had such dreams many times and the worse part is it also seems to happen to me in reality. Only, the person I am trying to project my cry to is the one person I was taught that I should rely on, that I can trust, that knows all the desires and secrets of my heart. I cry out, beg, plead, and supplicate into a silent darkness and that cry seems to go unheard and unanswered and I can't help but wonder why. All my life, I have read the Psalms of David, the story of Job, the desperate prayer of Hannah, and so many other instances in the Bible where the created proffered cries from the darkness for their Creator to deliver them from trial or to grant their deepest desire or need. Even Paul received an answer to his supplication, even though the reply was not in his favor (2 Corinthians 12:7-10). However, I've been praying for months to no avail and not for the first time in my life, I am wondering if God can hear me or if He was listening in the first place.

It's not that I'm flirting with Atheism or that I'm going to proclaim there is no God. But what do you do in the face of indifference? What do you do when you are slammed with one calamity and heartbreak after another?

I know people are fond of quoting The Princess Bride when Wesley says to Buttercup "Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something..." As a Stoic, there is an appeal to accepting what is and moving along. It was my coping mechanism for years until even I couldn't handle it. Humans were not designed to stand chronic crisis and emotional pain.

Even C.S. Lewis knew that. In his book The Screwtape Letters, the fictional daemon Screwtape wrote letters to his nephew, a junior "tempter" by the name of Wormwood. In one letter, Screwtape spoke on the subject of perpetual human suffering and the effects of enduring such phenomenon:

"You see, it is so hard for these creatures to persevere. The routine of adversity, the quiet despair (hardly felt as pain) of ever overcoming the chronic temptations with which we have again and again defeated them, the drabness which we create in their lives and the inarticulate resentment with which we teach them to respond to it- all this provides admirable opportunities of wearing out a soul by attrition." 

~The Screwtape Letters, pg. 155

Attrition is the action or process of gradually reducing the strength or effectiveness of someone or something through sustained attack or pressure. Erosion. Just like a crumbling rock on the edge of the sea or the bank of a river, that thins with every glacier melt in the spring, I have felt my strength drain with perpetual and relentless disappointment, adversity, and heartbreak. I've always prided myself on my determination to pull myself up by my bootstraps and carry on, but the past year especially it become so hard and now it feels impossible. As I've written before, this isn't my first brush with the "Dark Night of the Soul" but this one has been the hardest. Perhaps I never fully recovered from the last one. It was dovetailed by so many small difficulties. My graduation was a triumph but it was a triumph that was achieved by the skin of my teeth. Since then I've been screened for three different cancers, endured painful lab tests, and have been feverishly trying to get a job. While I felt some discouragement, I was still reasonably well in spirit. 

In August, I was invited to present my "Disability in the Church" presentation at a local church. This was both an honor and something that excited me. If the presentation were a success, it could lead to invitations elsewhere and give me opportunities to discuss a topic that was so near and dear to me. I got to spend 10 lovely days with my Dad in Medford where we got to spend real time together, something we hadn't done since Christmas. When I came home, I was feeling a little under the weather but also refreshed, hopeful, and happy. I was ready to prepare my presentation and I found out I had been nominated to be voted for a committee in the Episcopal Diocese of Oregon. If I won the vote, I would be able to serve my church on a Diocese level and try to make a difference. Then I found out I had bronchitis which explained why I had such a bad cough since the beginning of September. A week later, I ended up the hospital and found out that I had developed pneumonia. I was put in a brief quarantine with high fever but tried to keep my good humor. When my fever broke a few days later, I felt hopeful that I would be recovered by the coming weekend when I would make my presentation. I even felt well enough to wash my bedding and clothing. The next day, I walked into my doctor's appointment optimistically thinking I'd be assured I was finally on the mend. Instead, I found out that I was to be tested for pertussis or Whooping Cough. I was put back into quarantine until the results were in and found out two days later that it was positive. I had to contact the inviting church to inform them of my situation and asked for a postponement, only to find out that they could only cancel because of the way their adult forums were designed. A few minutes later, it was brought to my attention that given the long recovery before me that it was not a good time for me to take on the demands of a Diocese board position. Seeing the wisdom in this, I withdrew my acceptance of the nomination. For the first time in a handful of months, I felt completely defeated and could only pray that the next week would be better. The following weekend proved to be anything but... on Saturday I was informed that my beloved adopted grandfather passed away a week previously and before I could call him and try to foster reconciliation. It was a hard blow and broke my heart. Just as I was trying to breathe, only 48 hours later, I lost a most beloved friend and support and it broke me. Even today, I found out there was a third loss- a professor that I had for so many classes the past four years. 

I have had times in my life where I had a high concentration of bad news and adversity. They were hard but I had always managed to keep my head above water. This time, however, wave upon wave came crashing on my head until I sank to the bottom where I've been since. I'm stuck in the overwhelming current of constant trial and this time, I don't care if I never resurface. I'm tired of feeling broken, defeated, and helpless. I'm tired of struggling against perpetual obstacles and cruxes only to achieve little. When you have quite a few people share with you that when they are tempted to wallow in self-pity they think of me and realize someone has it worse than they do, it speaks volumes to me just how painful my life is. When people use you as the measuring stick when it comes to their own sufferings, that's a clue to just how messed up your life is.

I'm at a point in my life where I can't cope anymore.  While I go through the motions, life has no value or interest for me. Every day, at least once, I curl up in the fetal position pressing my chest as I feel the physical pain in my heart and I shed bitter tears. I force myself to eat once per day otherwise I wouldn't eat at all because I have no appetite. I sleep little or I stare at the ceiling all night until it's time to get up. I go to bed each night with a prayer that I won't wake up, that the pain will end. But like so many other prayers, God does not answer. I came to the awful realization that God has completely abandoned me and that He doesn't care.

This is an alarming thing to realize especially given how called I felt to Ministry. I've preached the word of God to others, I try to minister and be a Christ-like influence to the people I live with and anyone who comes to ECM. I'm even trying to join a religious order and I can't even say with confidence that I am a child of God, that He loves me, and that He is in all of this. If anything, it feels like I'm in the clutches of the Devil and no one is coming to save me. Out of the depths, I cry out to God but no one hears. He doesn't seem to hear...

c-ya.

ke7ejx.