Let me tell you a simple tale of a man who endured unparalleled pain, and prevailed. Listen, as I share with you the story of he who lost it all, to gain everything.

I recently met up with an old friend and we reminisced over painful events in the past, sharing the ways in which God had helped us to cope with them. As he vulnerably opened up to me, I couldn’t help but notice the intricate works of the Lord throughout his life that had led him to the solid ground he stood on today.

This friend of mine had lost his mother at a very young age and was brought up in a broken home; with very dysfunctional relationships with his siblings. As he shared with me his hopes and dreams as a child, I could see the pain those memories held in his eyes. I sat in the corner of Starbucks repeatedly listening to stories of parental favouritism, negligence from his siblings and emotional abuse, and though my heart ached, I ate up every word he said, eagerly awaiting the revelation of a key to life that I was certain he must have discovered to have become the mighty man he is today.
As he reached the climax of every story he shared with me, a smirk would appear on his face, and after five or six times, I knew exactly what that smirk meant. A big plot twist would ravage the story, and the season of joy or success he would be experiencing, somehow – almost frustratingly – would spiral downwards in an uncontrollably fast way. I’m not going to lie, being the impulsive person I am, his calm demeanor as he spoke began to stress me out, even though none of his past struggles had anything to do with me! I guess I wanted to see the anger and bitterness that had been brewing within him, but to my utter surprise none of that was to be revealed – not because of any wall he may have been putting up, but because there was none.

Friends, believe me when I tell you that evening I heard stories of child abuse, wrongful accusations and consequently wrongful punishments. Stories of deception that would send chills down the coldest spines. Yet this man, with the darkest past, exuded nothing but peace. With the warmest smile, he looked at me in the eyes and said “whatever bad things have happened to me in the past, God has used for good in my life today¹”. Just like that. No complaining, no anger, no self-pity… just the deep revelation that God had used his past seasons of pain for his present joy.

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past.
See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.”
Isaiah 43:18-19

As he spoke these simple of words of truth, He who dwells within me began to whisper the words He had inspired St. Paul to write to the Philippians; “I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.” Philippians 4:12-13. My friend had truly known what it meant to be in need – in need of money, respect, justice, and love, and he breathed this revelation; that true contentment in every situation can only be achieved through Him who gives you strength. Strength to endure the unendurable. He recognised that apart from His Saviour he could accomplish nothing², “and that, Michael, is why I feel free” he told me simply, with a joyful smile, as if the Holy Spirit had bathed him in peace and liberty.

“I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.”
John 15:5

This wise man that sat before me at our small two-seater table in Starbucks in Westfield Shopping Centre had figured it out. He’d given me the key to life that I desperately wanted to learn from him. He had come to the revelation that seasons change but the Lord God Almighty forever remains the same³. A revelation that gifted him with tremendous confidence in His Maker, confidence during painful seasons that though he stood helpless before great mountains, His Saviour is and will forever be able to turn them into level ground⁴ for him to walk through to greener pastures.
As our conversation came to an end, my friend looked at me one more time, and humbly said “…and you know the best part about all this? It’s blessed my present and made me forget all about my past.^5″.

Those were the simple words spoken by a simple man who lived a great life, and his words rung ever so loudly in my ears. A man who had tasted what it meant to be in need and to have plenty. A man who recognised that apart from His Creator he could do nothing, but through Him could do all things. A man who, with ease, embraced seasons past, recognising that they led him to where he stood today.

If you want to meet my friend, find him in Genesis 37-50.
His name, is Joseph.

And the cutting winds that blew violently, hushed. The roaring waves that crashed ferociously, silenced. The devastated earth that was shaken, became still. A New Season had begun…

[1] Genesis 50:20
[2] Genesis 41:16
[3] Malachi 3:6
[4] Zechariah 4:6-7
[5] Genesis 41:51-52

This was written by a dear friend.

Tell me your secret: Pornography, I’m still learning to love.

The lonesome curse of the introverted recluse, the unbearable shaming weight of the extroverted socialite: pornography, at its core, is our broken generation’s poor excuse for human love.

Everything around us is different. We weren’t supposed to look like this. In as much as technology has advanced mankind, it has also receded our humanity to an impersonal, self-loathing collective of isolated individualism. We weren’t supposed to look like this. Love wasn’t supposed to look like this. God’s eyes see an unfulfilled generation of victims. Yet, as these victims, we have more reason than ever to hope, to depend on a power far beyond our capacity to fight. As victims of our own circumstance, we have the greatest capacity of all – to make His power manifest through every fragile weakness that composes our form – a fragmented form of a most precious, most lovable and most loved humanity. Being independently broken down as isolated men through our own weaknesses, we are united together by our collective pain for each other, for God we rise and rise, and rise yet again. I have hope. I’m still learning to love.

At the start of it all

There are times when it becomes clear to me that a deeper secret and a darker need, deeper and darker than my shackling habits, is in fact the strongest link in the chains holding me down. It is at the start of it all. Shunning aside every burning pre-pubescent lust, every teenage egoistic urge for admiration, every narrow-minded adult’s desire to express masculinity, there he sits, the small lonely child in my heart, repeatedly demoralized by every manifestation of the pain of his rejection. At times I cannot look into the mirror. I see his green eyes, desperate and teary, insecurely staring into mine. Swiftly, I look away. It isn’t the shame of his glare that I hide from, it’s the fear. Fear that every repressed negative belief about myself is in fact true. Fear that the small, lonesome child inside of me is unloved and well and truly unlovable. Ultimately rejected even by the fantasies that barely uphold themselves, the fragments of lies amount to a firm belief. At times, I avoid even sitting in silence, in prayerful meditation, because all I can hear is the child’s desperate voice, begging to be loved.

He hasn’t met my expectations as the presentable young man he should have become by now, the one he dresses like and acts to be. He’s simple, a feeble soul, with a thorough and shaken vulnerability like no other; broken, seemingly like no other. Broken, so very, very broken. He was only a child when he first saw that one explicit image, yet before he could resolve the anxiety of the trauma, he began to crave it more. It became his most intimate, valued treasure. He owned it. It became my porn. Over the years, at times, through the confusion and the turmoil, a balanced vision seeps through, and the single prayer of the child that lies at the core of my struggles repeats itself – the prayer I subconsciously prayed before I even knew what sex was, before I was even conceived. “Dearest God, please give me a kind, gentle hand to hold, that is all I ever desire.” As a growing man, nothing changed much since the start of it all. Rummaging through the endless pictures and clips, the child within me fantasises about that pure loving hand that now looks so vulgar and warped, yet as a man starving for love, not knowing how to love, I both reluctantly and desperately cling to.

The despair that I often find myself in does not stem from a mere frustration at my repeated failures and my feeble incapacity for self-restraint, because I’m already mature enough to be cognizant of my own shortcomings, of the confines of my strengths. I already know that as a human I cannot be defined as just a creation, or even as an end-product of evolutionary chance, but that I am defined as a true understanding of my desires, emotions and ambitions, restricted equally by both reality and self-control. But that’s not it, though. There’s more and I know it. Deep down, I know that there’s a difference. This shakes me at the core of my existence. Not only do I find my deepest and strongest intrinsic drive for expressing human affection, passion and love unexpressed, I find it compulsively expressed towards a lie. I knowingly break off fragments of my valuable heart and hand it over to a phantom, only to see it fall through the formless illusion and hit the ground, dying and unfixable. I rock to and fro between the two extremes of conviction – passionately embracing the pseudo-love because it numbs the emptiness, then retracting back to the true emptiness, woefully regretting my indulgence that left me emptier than before. Past my bold masculinity and the insensitive jesting, past the hoarse-voiced laughter and the aggressive ambition, there’s a fragility that goes untouched for deathly fear of being destroyed. There’s an overprotected intimacy, spoilt rotten by the ever-fulfilled delusional need to be silent, to be cocooned in a mind that is far too afraid to be revealed.

And the cycles begin, the painful patterns that I draw in my mind. Like rivers flowing through the valleys collapsing into the ocean to their demise, the variety of reasons pave their way through the valleys of my thoughts eventually gravitating to the single pool of demise – a pornographic ocean. A vast, vast solution to every rejection, every worry, every anger, every hunger and every isolation of experience. Too thirsty to even believe in freshwater reserves – in a holy, fulfilling and fulfilled sexuality – I’m allured by the ocean that provides its illusive worth of an unquenching mass of water, it leaves me even drier and thirstier that before. And I hate it, I hate myself for allowing it to make me what it made me.

I hear the people sing, ‘no man is an island’, yet in maturing I became the dictator of the island of my mind, I drove out the interpersonal society that began to flourish inside of me and I pushed away the edifying exterior influences that should have thrived within. Soon, I became that very island that no man can survive as. I became a man on my own terms, I became a man on my own, nothing more than an aged, shielded iteration of that terrified child inside. The child that is far too terrified to risk the pain of rejection that comes in its infinite forms and retracted deep inside your heart since the start of it all. “The evil I do not want to do – this I keep on doing” (Rom 7:19). If it doesn’t even make sense to myself, how can I expect it to make sense to anyone else if I was to ever tell them? So I hide it. What kind of a Christian, deacon, fiancé, husband, lover and father can look like I do? So I hide it from my family, from my friends, from my relationships, but I cannot hide it from God, so I hide myself from God entirely…

Recycling the cycles of guilt and pain

The first stage of dealing with my guilt, is embracing my problem for what it truly is. For that reason, I have referred to pornography as my porn. It is mine. As I child I owned it as my dark, vile treasure, now I own it as the very key to my liberation. My porn is both the chains holding me down, and the means through which my chains will be broken through the loving grace of God. He says that the truth will set me free. My ownership is that truth. His unfailing acceptance is that truth. My liberation from guilt is that truth. My honesty is that truth that will set me free. Henri Nouwen says,

“Self-realization…is the growing ability to allow the dark side of our personality to enter into our awareness and thus prevent a one sided life in which only that which is presentable to the outside world is considered as a real part of ourselves. To come to an inner unity, totality and wholeness, every part of our self should be accepted and integrated. Christ represents the light in us. But Christ was crucified between two murderers and we cannot deny them, and certainly not the murderers who live in us.”

As with most painful experiences in our lives, once we learn to look past the suffering, an opportunity for compassion arises. God leverages our suffering, even that which is self-inflicted, to open up our hearts to a greater absolute truth – that humanity shares an overpowering need to be loved. I have always wondered why we need to be loved, why we need to give love and to make it. God’s image, our very selves, reflect His same passion in giving and receiving back from us, that which is given to us of Himself. That is God within us. That is God in others, which is in so much need for expression. The hours of suffering that follow the hours spent with my porn are incredibly dark, but they are a dark window opening my heart to the sleepless night of pain of those around me. I hear the words of the Psalmist, “Many a time have they afflicted me from my youth…The ploughers ploughed on my back; they made their furrows long” (Ps 129:2-3). Oh, how they’ve made their furrows in me so very, very long.

In the same way that porn is the lustful sugar-coating to my deep need for love, those around me that seek to fulfil their own need for intimacy and love colour their own hunger in a rainbow of expression. As my brother who I love, I invite you to take that silent heaviness as a moment of heartfelt, powerful prayer lifted up out of your own pain for the widespread suffering of the world. Lift up a prayer. For the girl you once loved, who out of a desperate, frantic need for validation, preferred to be lusted over and fantasised about than to subdue to the terrifying risk of her commitment to you. For your friend who it pains you to see dressing and acting provocatively to entice men through her seemingly immoral desire for sex, who deep beneath her wanting, lustrous eyes, an aching sadness and a begging for acceptance is buried. For your closest friend, who amidst the heavy bitterness and the disheartening complications of his soul, couldn’t find it in himself to even smile at your success. For your aggressive friend, who rages and furiously seeks out his own, yet only rages for and furiously seeks out a deeper conviction that he is worth loving. For your father who couldn’t love you, who, because of his misunderstanding of your adolescent pseudo-resentment towards him, lost the capacity to love himself and lost faith in the very value of his own fatherhood. For your bitter and discontented grandfather, who through the years, lost little-by-little the very love he spent his life building his heart upon. Feel their pain and forgive, “for they do not know what they do” (‭Luke‬ ‭23‬:‭34‬). They do not know how much hurt their pain has caused. Feel their pain my brother, that is the same pain that you hide behind your smile. Only in our darkest hours, can we see that we’re so very broken too and our hearts become ever kinder by the searing pain. ‘When we are crushed like grapes, we cannot think of the wine we will become,’ Henri Nouwen.

Pray for the deceptively seductive rainbow of pain arching over the world, for you are no more than a fragment of the brokenness of this earth and our porn is the explicit visual realisation of that same reality.

This is the glorious blessing that your porn can bring once you embrace it as a warped definition of your humanity, as your deep and great capacity for love, as misdirected as it may be. It hurts only because you are so loving, so affectionate, and so caring – it hurts because it makes you see how truly isolated and closed off you are.‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

It’s time to share. But first, learn to forgive yourself. It isn’t your fault that your heart became so enslaved in these sexual perversions. Your fluctuating cravings and indulgences don’t change the truth about yourself. You’re still that pure child your mother raised you to be, the one who she taught absolute and unconditional respect for women. You’re still the protective brother who loves and respects every inch of his sister’s femininity and virtue. You are not your struggle. You are loved by God so incredibly deeply, not on the condition of an unfaltering purity, but by nature of your existence and for your persistent desire to return to Him, your Father, clothed in rags, smelling of swine, yet still the most valued, most precious, most beloved little child. ‘God said “Love Your Enemy,” and I obeyed Him and loved myself’ (Khalil Gibran). He says, “Yet I have set My King On My holy hill of Zion” (‭Ps‬ ‭2‬:‭6‬). On Christ you are established, “a city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden” (‭Mat‬ ‭5‬:‭14). Your light cannot be hidden. Though the hilltop lamp may flicker and be put out by the wind, “a smoking flax He will not quench” (‭Mat‬ ‭12‬:‭20‬). There is still hope in you. There is always hope in you. Forgive yourself and learn to love yourself as deeply as you are loved. You deserve far more than the self-loathing that only you impose on yourself. Listen to his voice “for the Father Himself loves you” (‭John‬ ‭16‬:‭27)‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬.

“But if you are a poor creature…- straddled, by no choice of your own, by some loathsome sexual perversion – nagged day in and day out by an inferiority complex…do not despair. He knows about it. You are one of the poor whom He blessed. He knows what a wretched machine you are trying to drive. Keep on. Do what you can. One day (perhaps in another world, but perhaps far sooner than that) He will fling it on the scrap heap and give you a new one.”
C. S. Lewis

Sharing is caring

“But You, O LORD, are a shield for me, My glory and the One who lifts up my head” (‭Psalms‬ ‭3‬:‭3‬). My glory is in God’s acceptance and protection, not in my own capacity to keep myself pure. There is no shame, “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear” (‭I John‬ ‭4‬:‭18‬). On your journey learning to love a wholesome, perfect love, begin by letting go of your fears to let that love inside and to allow it to flourish through its ever-transparent and honest vulnerability. “It’s not easy. Fear will tell us all the many reasons not to share, all the reasons why we should hide. It is a scary thing to take your darkness and expose it, because what if no one accepts our dark? I’ve learned not to be afraid, not to be afraid firstly of my own dark, and not to be afraid of other people’s. Never forget the truth that you are more. You are more than your worst mistake. You are more than your shame. These words of your weakness don’t define you.” (Makrina)

By learning to be vulnerable, I’m learning to love. I’m learning to hand over to my fellow man, the depths of my fear and the dark reason for my inability to truly love.

Usually, it isn’t our own flaws that we present to others that repel them away, it’s the flaws that we desperately try to hide from them which creep out during our interactions with them that repulse them. It’s the masks we put on that we try to deceive them with that drive them further away from us. Unravelling the truth of our own weakness is never as abhorrent as unravelling the lie that hid it away.

Let him out

Once I came to the conclusion that my porn is my own, that it does not define me, that it’s a desperate expression to fill the love-less, isolated void in my heart and that sharing is the key to filling my void, and ultimately, my freedom, then came the time for inner resolution.

Call him out. Call out the terrified green-eyed child inside your heart and let him heal in Sun of Righteousness. Call him out and comfort him. With a gentle, newly-found understanding teach him little-by-little that love is not in the shadows, it is not his shameful, dirty secret, it is not a wasted fantasy, but a loud and sacrificial truth. Teach him to speak of his own pain and struggle, teach him that his vulnerability empowers his loved ones to feel liberated in their own struggles, to allow them to feel the pain that we all share as a broken humanity without fear of shame. When he’s hurting, teach him to hear His Father’s words,

“I have loved you with an everlasting love; therefore with lovingkindness I have drawn you” (Jer 31:3). Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool (Isa 1:18). I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners, to repentance (Luke 5:32). I have come for you, my broken, hurting child. I have come so that you do not have to live as an island – isolated, ever-retracting and self-loathing.”

And the healing child inside you can reply,

“I am dark, but lovely (Songs 1:5). Why should I be as one who veils herself? (Songs 1:7) The king has brought me into his chambers (Songs 1:4). I’m healing by my shedding. I’m becoming vulnerable to become intimate. For God, I will rise, and rise, and rise yet again. Pornography, my chains and the key to unleashing my chains, I’m still learning to love.”

As for me, you may ask who I am. I am your dark past and your hopeful future. I am your father and you mother, who did not know how to teach you to love when you recoiled to the safety of your porn. I am your friend who you waited long for to hear my secret so that you can tell me yours, and that we can both grow in love and be free from our pain. I am your brother who was too anxious to give to you the gift of your own liberation. I am your future self – the loving husband who can be as honest about his weakness as he is about his strengths. I am your future self – the vulnerable and caring father telling his children about his struggles with porn, helping them learn themselves to love, to open up and to share their pain. In our shared pain, I am an embodiment of your hope.

I am a fragmented form of a most precious, most lovable and most loved humanity.

Pornography, I’m still learning to love.

The “Lord is between you and me forever.”
Samuel 20:23

The day you came beside me to sleep on the floor was Tuesday, July 21st. That was the day my summer burst at the seams. You let me in on the secret of friendship;

“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”

That night you didn’t see me with your eyes but you saw me with your heart.

To be friends with someone is to see courage where everyone else may see weakness. To be a friend is to see someone who is trying where everyone may see someone who should be better.

It is kind, soft words in a world where they run on short supply and where all you hear are the voices in your head that insist you should not be this way, that you are not good enough, and that the only solution is to keep trying harder, to never allow your weakness to show. But that night on the floor as I cried, you saw me as beautiful still, like the tears were water for a row of lilies to bloom. And you held on to hope for me as I felt my fingers loosen their grip and slip.

We need each other, vulnerable and exposed.

We need floor moments like these in friendship. To hold a mirror with one hand that reveals all the frailties and shortcomings, but to also hold out the other hand ready to go on this journey of healing with you all the way to the Father’s house; no matter how crooked or narrow the Calvary road becomes, all the way to the foot of the Cross – our God at His most vulnerable.

Friendship allows us to see our darkness and the darkness of others as a pathway to know the Father – not a barrier to his love. Perhaps He is not threatened by our darkness, so we no longer need to with each other. Perhaps our bleeding out with those who have earned the right to hear it is the best thing for our hearts – because then we can be filled with new Eucharistic blood.

That night you were a mirror to the parts of myself I spent so long trying to run from and pretend like they weren’t there because I thought they were too much to look at.

There is something to be said when someone is willing to make sense of all you are, your internal wars, your run-down castles, your expanding galaxies and your untamed, untrodden paths. What more do we want than to be seen, to be understood in a continuum where we did not want to understand or see ourselves for fear of what we would uncover? Yet, I tried to push you away, to shut you out with walls of silence and tears, with sitting away from you on the floor. And yet, that night you did not leave, but you chose to stay when there was nothing I could offer you. You chose to fight for a ravaged heart, so you lay on the floor beside me and told me words like streams to my desert soul:

That you love this broken girl.

There is something to be said of the marks people can make on another soul, the fingerprints they leave from where hands ran along the jagged edges.

To be a friend is a lifetime of savouring every sharp point, every rough texture as lost treasure. A lifetime of leaving marks that tell stories of staying together. Staying in summers and in winters too, even when they’ve been too cold. Staying when the birds have sung and the plants have been in bloom and when the garden has run wild with weeds and tall yellow grass. The garden of a soul is not yours alone, it belongs to a man’s friends. For it takes more than a pair of hands to pull out overgrown weeds and plant a row of sunflowers in the space where deep roots of lies spread. And when there is a storm, there is no fear to let the waters rise as you stand in the rain; in time the seeds friendship’s sown will grow.

The secret of friendship sounds a lot like a fight song at times…

We sing…

As we lie on the cold hardened floor of our lives, wrapped in the thick of darkness’ untidy death grip, I will not let you go. I will choose to see you with my heart and not just my eyes. I will choose to hear your words and your tears, and I will not be afraid to walk down into the garden you call wreckage. I will choose to write lovely all across your back until the lies no longer compare. I will ensure that you remember that “you are dark” always comes with the clause that “you are lovely”. I will bring to your remembrance that even the darkness will not be dark to you (psalm 139:12). I will choose to enter into your sorrow and suffering rather than demand that you deny yourself and enter into my joy. I will choose to fight to understand your every complexity, that I may grow to know and serve you well. And for every moment your heart screams ugly, I will choose to echo the truth right back in, beauty.

Because precious sister, love is a choice, and I will choose to love you, the way Jonathan loved David, the way he loved him as his own soul. I will choose to feast on the precious gift of friendship, where our souls may collide that together we may enter into His rest.

To be seen by you is frightful indeed. To strip off my layers, let you see me raw, let you see me whole frightens me to the core. Yet with your gentleness, all my fears halt to a lie, and I realise that you know me. To be known is to be loved, and you love me so well.

We are pursuers of each other, pursuing to know the depth and height of each other’s heart. I promise to know you. I promise not to laugh at you when you are naked and like Genesis 2:25, we will stand together, naked souls, unashamed. And I will not let my words become a hollow noise, but I will entangle this promise in the actions of my daily life.

Just when I think I have tasted the best of this feast, I realise, joyfully, there is so much more to learn. More knitting, more weaving of souls.

“The resurrection is coming.”

And with those words you fearlessly revelled and embraced my brokenness as the means to victory and wiped away any shame with hands that held me close. The same shame that I used to push you away from coming any closer because I did not believe you deserved to see this mess, you deserved better from a friend and you did not deserve to carry this sadness. Yet you called it an honour. You spoke life, love, truth and beauty into the deafening echo of brokenness.

Because of you, my true friend, I am not a victim of brokenness but rather experiencing redemption through brokenness. On the floor the fear made me want hide away from it. And on that same floor you made the broken beautiful with these words:

Do not be afraid or weakened by your darkness.

To be a friend is to let someone love you the way you would want to love them. To accept you will hurt them and they will be hurt by you whilst never forgetting the commitment you made to sacrifice anything to heal each other.

I will never forget that night on the floor when you came down beside me and met me at my lowest. When you were a picture of how hope does not disappoint because of the love that God has poured out in our hearts through the Holy Spirit. You poured out your love in the broken girl. The girl whose every dry bone screamed “you’re not good enough as you are. You need to be perfect. Don’t give up…otherwise you won’t be perfect.” In your embrace, the dry bones cried “Live!” and the broken girl had a place to let go and belong.

As St. Ambrose says, a place to “know, O beautiful soul, that you are the image of God. Know that you are the glory of God. Know, then, O mortal, your greatness, and be vigilant”. In your arms I found a place of safety. A place other than perfection’s hostage image of all the ways I will never be enough – other than shame’s iron hold and ten-tonne shield. A place other than isolation’s secrecy and muffled silence, until I could see something other than every flaw and imperfection.

We all need help and perspective in learning how to love the broken girl within each one of us. We all need friends to see and celebrate our truest self – the broken girl who is actually more whole than she ever thought because she chose to endure, to be resilient and grow.

When I could not come out of hiding you came to find me. This is the feast of friendship. A halfway home ’till kingdom come. Till we shall feast anew and fully in the blessed kingdom of God.

“What I know about living
is the pain is never just ours.
Every time I hurt I know the wound is an echo,
so I keep listening for the moment the grief becomes a window,
when I can see what I couldn’t see before
through the glass of my most battered dream
I watched a dandelion lose its mind in the wind
and when it did, it scattered a thousand seeds.

So the next time I tell you how easily I come out of my skin
don’t try to put me back in.
Just say, “Here we are” together at the window
aching for it to all get better
but knowing there is a chance
our hearts may have only just skinned their knees,
knowing there is a chance the worst day might still be coming

let me say right now for the record,
I’m still gonna be here
asking this world to dance,
even if it keeps stepping on my holy feet.

You, you stay here with me, okay?
You stay here with me.

Raising your bite against the bitter dark,
your bright longing,
your brilliant fists of loss.
Friend, if the only thing we have to gain in staying is each other,
my god that is plenty
my god that is enough
my god that is so so much for the light to give
each of us at each other’s backs
whispering over and over and over,
“Live. Live. Live.”

Andrea Gibson

Co-written with Makrina.

When we make the goal everything, the journey is vaporized; it becomes nothing. The eyes of the world tell me to seek nothing but to achieve. That my time is without purpose, if it is not certified by pen and paper. But I want to experience what it really means to be educated; to be made perfect and whole.

‘And he said unto her, Daughter, your faith has made you whole; go in peace’ – Mark 5;23

‘Paideia’ is a greek work that means the consciously shaping the young to understand and appreciate “the beautiful and the good” ,always pursuing “excellence” or “virtue.” All throughout Greek literature the end goal (telos), is to become a whole-person. Education is understood as the satisfied life of flourishing, that the mature (teleios) alone can experience. This goal (telos) and state of maturity (teleios) are both important Greek words that appear in the Bible, often translated as “perfect” and “perfection.”

“Christ is the true educator. Christ not only is the teacher that ‘guides to develop the capacity to know, but also makes you pure and capable of retaining the revelation of the Word”
– St Clement of Alexandria.

Though it may seem I am stepping on firey coals, eager to jump from one coal to the next, He is purifying my heart with every step. So sometimes that means letting the fiery embers singe the bottom of my feet so that I can one day run free. The world says run from the pain and hush it to silence till the season passes. The world says winter will soon pass, and the summer’s sun will soon crack open the hardened skies with its rays. But I say how soon is now? Because every season is for a purpose. The naked branches in winter are just as beautiful as the full leaves of summer.

The truth is, I will say; ‘wait on the Lord, be of good cheer, the Lord will strengthen your heart’ one hundred times before I say ‘I have overcome, I have run the race.’ Let us stand steadfast in the strengthening. As we turn each page of the book, let us rejoice in knowing that each turn is a step into faithfulness and a step into living fully right where we are.

“Be entirely engaged in the process of your work, and be entirely disengaged in the outcome of your work.
You can’t determine outcome but you can determine to come and put in everything you have.
Let your joy be in doing the work, not in the outcome of the work
The journey not only maters more than the destination the journey actually becomes the destination”
– Ann Voskamp

If you are faithful in little things, you will be faithful in large ones.
Luke 16:10

The greek word for “disciple” is (mathetes). The word means a student, a learner, the follower of an educator/pedagogue. Whether in the Jewish rabbinic tradition or the many forms of ancient Greco-Roman paideia, an educator gathers disciples/students and trains them to maturity of mind and soul. At the fundamental level of our identity Christians are called disciples, students. And one unmistakable—but often overlooked identity of Christ—Jesus is our Great Educator.
So in this season of studying, I will let Christ be my teacher and I will let the each day studying be lived fully.

The way of Jesus is a journey, not a destination.
“Don’t ever be concerned with failing, only be concerned with failing to keep going”
– Ann Voskamp

“Happiness can only be achieved by looking inward & learning to enjoy whatever life has –and this requires transforming greed into gratitude”
– St John Chrysostom

I can do all things through him who strengthens me..
Philippians 4:13

For the majority of my life I have done whatever I wanted to do. I was always the one in charge, doing whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. I would block out that voice in my mind telling me ‘no’ and amplify my behaviour until that voice diminished to an eventual silence. I was comfortable with this lifestyle. I was happy doing what I felt brought me happiness. I didn’t want to change anything about this lifestyle as I thought it was perfect for me. I was ‘happy’ in my daily routine knowing what I’d be doing that day and who I would be seeing.

This comfortable life soon turned into an unfulfilled and unsatisfactory routine. I was living the same way but it felt different. I was no longer satisfied and content with anything. That voice that I had always shunned into a silence was louder than ever and I couldn’t escape it. I was scared. I didn’t want to leave the life I had always known and was so comfortable with, but I knew it was now or never.

My comfort zone break-out had begun. One thing God blessed me with that helped me on this journey was surrounding me with (truly great) people that were an amazing support and encouragement for me. I had seen my brother completely change his life for the better and he badly wanted the same for me. He was the first hand guiding me in this new journey and always pushing me get out of my old, comfortable routine. Before I knew it my daily routine was changing and I was starting to notice how much my life was changing too. I was being introduced to new people and became part of a new community that were bringing me closer to God. This was really helping me let go of old habits.

Admittedly, part of me wasn’t ready to take the huge leap back into my own Coptic church community. I was anxious and nervous of going back to the church I had tried escaping for so long. I didn’t want to face people that I had tried to avoid for so many years of my life and I was scared of rejection and disappointment. God, however, had a different plan for me. He continually sent me people that I could rely on and feel comfort around. These people encouraged me to take that dreaded leap and go on my first ever church conference, which was exactly a year ago now. He taught me to rely on Him and to trust His plan more than my own. I learnt how to really communicate with Him and more importantly how to listen to Him. He started to change my life in so many ways that I couldn’t have done on my own.

The main piece of advice I would give anyone wanting to take that step further in his or her spiritual journey, but is held back by fear of stepping out of what they feel is their comfort zone, is to remember you’re never on this journey alone. “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9.

Here are some steps that will help;

Step 1:

Talk to God, He knows all that your heart desires and will give you the strength and courage to fulfill all the things you couldn’t do alone.

Step 2:

Remind yourself that there will never be the ‘perfect’ time to take this brave leap and push yourself out of your comfort zone. God’s planning and timing is so perfect that we could never remotely match his plans for us. In 2 Peter 3:8 we read that “With the Lord one day is as a thousand years and a thousand years as one day”. He is a patient and loving God and will wait for us until we allow Him to make us ready to find his promise.

Step 3:

Accept his eternal love for you. He watches over you through your most sinful and corrupt days, not with anger and disgrace, but with compassion and love and will provide you with his free gift of grace.

Step 4:

Obey his word. We are rewarded with salvation when we truly turn to Christ and fulfill His Word. Give Him an inch and He will give you a mile.

Step 5:

Trust Him with the things that scare you the most and He will provide you with bravery and strength you never thought you had.

By turning to God and surrendering my life to Him, he has given me endless rewards and blessings that I thank Him for everyday. He has provided with an amazing group of friends that encourage me on this new journey and fill my life with so much joy. The life I was once so comfortable in is now a faded memory, and all the past fear and anxiety God has now turned into excitement to see when He is going to take me next.

“For we walk by faith, not by sight”
2 Corinthians 5:7

I certainly felt emotionally secure. However, a specific part of my life began to chip away at this security. At home, mum and dad often did not seem to get on. I didn’t think much of it as a child as I assumed most people’s parents fell out from time to time. This was surely nothing I couldn’t take in my stride, I used to think. However, the problems continued to escalate. As the years went by, the division between my parents grew and it began to put a strain in the family. My younger sibling chose to distant themselves from the issue and seemed to want nothing to do with it. I didn’t have a friend close enough to speak to about it, I did not feel connected to any church or a particular priest I could open up to, and I was often made to feel that this topic was such a taboo that it should never leave the front door of the house anyway.

My original belief that I could handle anything myself was beginning to fade away, so I looked to God. “That’s what He’s there for, right?” I told myself. I love both of my parents and I knew they loved me too, wanting only the best for me. I spent years praying for God to intervene and fix their relationship. I asked Him to show me what is was that I had to do in order to play my part. I spent numerous years being the peacemaker in the house, refusing to take one side over another, and feeling too much of a sense of responsibility to detach myself from the issue completely. I refused to stop believing that with my perseverance and prayers, the problems would be resolved and one day we would finally live as a peaceful, happy family.
This day did not come. The cracks turned into gaping crevasses and after moving away to university, I found myself being the recipient of endless phone calls from each individual complaining about the other. It was taking a toll on my studies, my social life, and ultimately on my spirituality. I can recall long nights being in torment with God. I was filled with anger that after all the prayers and belief, He hadn’t come up with the goods. If anything, things were much worse than where we started.

I began to loosen my grip and reliance on Him, and slowly started to revert to my original strategy of handling it all myself. The stress of it led me to take comfort in other areas. I began to make wrong decisions at university and things began to slip. I was losing control – a concept that was previously so alien to me. I had blocked out everyone in my life, including God, refusing to listen to Him. I only had myself to contend with and for the first time, felt truly alone. This broke me. In all of my efforts to try and restore my family, I found myself with nobody.

In my fourth year at university, something within me revved me to get up and make a change. I was not content in staying in this slumber. I loathed self-pity and knew deep down that although I had turned my face away from God, He was still the only one that could change things. In my depths lurked a voice that kept telling me to look at Him and listen one more time to what He had to say.
I got myself back into church; one that I had frequented during my time at university, but never made an effort to get fully involved with. I chose to make a conscious effort to get to know the people there and engage with the community. There was instant gratification. I quickly found a friend I was confident to open up with, pretty much from our first meeting. I had never done anything like this before, but it felt so comfortable. It was amazing to unload to someone who was essentially a stranger. They helped me to start making steps towards the right track and made me feel welcomed in the group. I was wary of revealing my secrets to anyone else, still believing that I was an outsider with a shameful background. I could not have been more wrong. I quickly learnt that I was not the only Copt to have come from a far from perfect family, and was soon able to confide in someone that had been through something very similar.

Through further involvement in the church, I attended my first conference and heard a quote that truly resonated within me;

“The almost impossible thing is to hand over your whole self to Christ… but it is far easier than what we are all trying to do instead” C.S. Lewis

I realised that striving to maintain full control of each aspect of my life was foolish, and it was essential that I hand over the reins to my life to Him. I must put Him firmly in the driving seat.

For a long time I knew that the situation at home was my cross to bear, and that I must carry it. However, I had no clue how to carry it. For a great deal of time I wondered what it was that I practically needed to do. I would often find myself being put in situations with my parents, being forced to balance my time equally between them so as not to make one upset that I was picking a side. I often wanted to take a step back and distance myself from the whole situation, but I felt overwhelmed with guilt and the sense of selfishness. Was putting them before myself and my own happiness how I was meant to carry my cross? These questions were so simply answered by my friend who had gone through a similar situation, and who I had previously confided in:

I needed to make sure that whatever I do, it was according to the will of God. I must keep God in my heart and that is who I should aim to please. Only He will satisfy my longing for happiness.

I realised how much I had complicated my life when I tried to work out what I needed to do, alone, not considering His will in my decision making.

This realisation has brought me so much peace.

Through all of the struggles and the anger that I felt towards God, I have learnt that it was all for my benefit. I wanted to work out how to carry my cross with minimal struggle, but instead I have been shown how to live with peace in my heart. I have learnt the true meaning of love and grace.

I longed for a family, and He has blessed me with an entire Church.

“Masks can be beautiful on the surface, but steal the heart of joy;
yet stunning is the one who isn’t afraid of her secrets.”

– Jennifer Strickland

There’s a cycle – of putting things behind, only for them to return. There’s a gap that we jump from our old life to a new, not knowing that building a bridge can keep us from falling. The gap is shame; the bridge is self-forgiveness.

I am the new man. Cleaned to perfection. But the dirt stain once washed beams brighter on this silk white garment.

The new man grows out of a mere behavior modification; changing my every action until all my habits become good. It is genuine, it does not come out of emptiness, but a deep hunger to be transformed into who I was born to be.

But behavior modification can only run for so long before the fuel runs out, before my appetite for the things ungodly grows.

We change our behaviors and move on from our past, but we do not reconcile with our past self. We condemn our past self and walk away from the person we once were, not knowing that reconciliation is needed, that forgiveness is needed.

Because too often I shut out the memories, I hide back the mistakes done by me, the mistakes done to me and I pretend that my former life never existed; but that’s called faking it. And I refuse to perpetuate the idea that you should “fake it till you make it.”

I want to walk in the liberty that my past self is not just dead and forgotten, but is resurrected and alive in Christ; fully forgiven, fully restored and finally freed.

But I absorb every hidden stone; the indirect critic, the Pharisaic remarks and the voice that begs to call me unforgiven. If history’s giant towers so high above me, surely they can all see it too. Weakened by my inner shame, it calls me to run to isolation.

“If distress is the affect of suffering, shame is the affect of indignity, transgression and of alienation. Though terror speaks to life and death and distress makes of the world a vale of tears, yet shame strikes deepest into the heart of man…. shame is felt as inner torment, a sickness of the soul…. the humiliated one feels himself naked, defeated, alienated, lacking in dignity and worth.”
Silvan Tomkins

I hear Him say, “There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus, who do not walk according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit.”

But I do not feel it. And the truth is, I’m barely believing it. I’m holding onto his truth with 60% faith, cause shame claims the rest.

But in the darkness of my shame grace lets me see His eyes. There is a gentle kindness in His eyes, a warmth that looks upon me with great love and affection.

“And the Lord turned and looked at Peter. Then Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how He had said to him, “Before the rooster crows, you will deny Me three times.”

Luke 22:61

Oh my soul, I know that look. This is far from a look of disappointment. That look that pulls me in close and holds every last part of me I can’t bear, cradling the stifling waves of shame that roar to stillness. The look that says “I will stay,” even in your rejection of Me. It says “I will never leave,” even when you deny Me. The same eyes that looked upon the man with the withered hand and declared healing, the same eyes that wept over Jerusalem’s hardened heart, the same eyes that looked at the rejected lepers and cleansed, the same eyes that looked up at Zaccheus immersed in sin and accepted fully.

These eyes see my pain, understand altogether and do not condemn my past. These eyes write poems of me and not one is disappointed by my weakness but rather longs to enter my pain and overwhelmingly conquer it for me. Because I am His poem and He wrote you and I to reveal Himself and make known the character of God. So the way I choose to tell the story of my past is a gift He has given me.

So I turn and look into myself with His eyes not mine: I look into myself and love what’s there. I look into His eyes daily and choose to believe that there is now no condemnation. I flee the dark thoughts of myself and break through on the wings of grace. I gather each thought, every memory and every action, that broke my heart and breaks it still and love myself through it. I gather them as the sower gathers seeds and plant them in the fault lines of my heart that once quaked my earth and pray for rain. If rain’s His mercy then in the midst of brokenness, gardens will spring and songbirds will wake. Maybe the cracks in my heart are where the most fertile soil for the sowers’ seeds lie.

So I am learning to forgive myself, learning to set myself free.

“Do not fear, for you will not be ashamed;
Neither be disgraced, for you will not be put to shame;
For you will forget the shame of your youth,
And will not remember the reproach of your widowhood anymore.
For your Maker is your husband,
The Lord of hosts is His name;
And your Redeemer is the Holy One of Israel;
He is called the God of the whole earth.“
Isaiah 54:4-5

“I found God in myself
and I loved her
I loved her fiercely.”
– Ntozake Shang

Co-written with Sandra.

Check out part one here!

And I feel empty and broken. I run out of my house and into the streets looking for you but you’re nowhere to be found. You’re gone. Darkness. Brokenness. Hurt. Back to square one.

I’m nervous, so overcome by fear. Every word I hear, every thought I think, every emotion I feel scares me. I think of my future and this ‘huge plan’ you’ve promised me and all I feel is hurt. I utter a few words to you and fall asleep. Waking up is what I dread… those first couple of minutes lying in bed are what get me thinking. Thinking about my future, my purpose, my calling. I feel crippled, I literally can’t move out of fear. Fear of moving forward. Fear of the future. I close my eyes and my lips are shut. Closed as if they’ve been locked. But somehow my soul sings a song of hurt. My soul whispers to you “I need you now. You promised. You promised. Don’t let go now. Don’t let me slip away like this. I need your peace.” I pray. My heart bows down. “I surrender”.

“Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you” I hear you whisper in the faintest voice. “I do not give to you as the world gives. My peace is real. My peace is eternal. And I freely give it to you.” My heart remains bowed. Finally you’ve come back. “You’re here, you’re here!” I think to myself. I want to look to you, look straight into your eyes… then I remember. What if you disappear again? What if I’m left alone again? What if this means the cycle will restart? I think and think and think… I begin to cry, even in your presence my enemy has managed to find its way into my heart. Fear. Again.

Suddenly I feel your hand on my face and you make me look to you. I keep my eyes shut. “No more hurt. No more pain. No more.” I think to myself.

Then you wipe my tears with your hand and say with a bold voice “Do not let your heart be troubled and do not be afraid. I give you peace. I give you courage. I give you faith. ”.

I open my eyes for the first time since you’ve entered the room and your eyes look so deeply into mine. I see Fire. I see Glory. I see Love.

I look to the palms that are holding mine and see the marks of the depth of the love you have for me. You whisper to me “a grain of wheat must fall to the ground and die before it can grow and produce much more wheat. If it never dies, it will never be more than a single seed.” I cry. You continue and say “you are Mine and I am yours. You didn’t choose me, I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit – fruit that will last. I have a purpose for you. I will use you, but first you must die.” “Do it now! Please, please… take me now, take my life so I can be with you always… I need you. I really need you. I love you.” I cry, begging you to take me where you are.

Then you smile and pray to the father saying “I am not asking you to take him out of the world. But I am asking that you keep him safe from the Evil One. He doesn’t belong to the world, just as I don’t belong to the world. Make him ready for your service through your truth. Your teaching is truth. I have sent him into the world, just as you sent me into the world.” I understand. I know what you’re telling me. I accept your will.

You place your finger on my chest and tell me “the Spirit of truth, He will guide you into all truth my son. He will bring glory to me by taking what is mine and making it known to you. Remember you are Mine and I am yours. You’re already living eternity. The Father himself loves you because you’ve loved me. You do not realise now what I’m doing, but later you will understand. I love you.” I feel your peace. I know your truth.

Then you, my Creator, get down on your knees in my little room and begin to wash my feet and you whisper “I love you beyond measure my son.” I get down on my knees and hug you. I love you Jesus. I really do. I stay in the stillness of your arms for what seems like eternity, then you whisper “Father, I want everyone you have given me to be with me, wherever I am. Then they will see the glory that you have given me, because you loved me before the world was created.” then you stand up, walk up to my desk and pick up my Bible. You come back and present it to me open and my eyes are drawn to Isaiah 26:3. As I read it I hear you whisper “you will have perfect peace if you keep focused on me.”

You place your hands on my heart, look me dead in the eyes and proclaim with an almighty voice “in this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” And with that promise, you leave my room, my house…

But I no longer need to go into the streets to search for you. I am Yours and You are mine. I know where I can find you, any time of the day in any circumstance you’re here. I know you have a purpose and a plan for me. I know you will use me.

I wanted to find You but You, You found me.

“Should you not fear me?” declares the Lord. “Should you not tremble in my presence?” (Jeremiah 5:22)

Approaching God in Fear

Too many of us continue to approach God solely as a buddy or as a friend. We high-five Him, joke with Him, call Him our homeboy and completely forget that He is the Lord God Almighty, the King of glory, and the Lion of Judah. While an intimate friendship with Him is to be desired, this should not take away from the fear and awe by which we approach Him. Abraham, whom the Bible called a friend of God (James 2:23), understood how to speak to Him. While he was pleading with the Lord to save Sodom he approached Him with humility and reverence:

“Now that I have been so bold as to speak to the Lord, though I am nothing but dust and ashes” (Genesis 18:27)…Then he said, “Let not the Lord be angry, and I will speak but once more” (Genesis 18:32).

Bad things happen when we forget to give God the honor and glory due to Him:

For instance, when the Ark of the Covenant was brought to Jerusalem in 2 Samuel a man named Uzzah was afraid it was going to fall off the cart it was being carried in so he “put out his hand to the ark of God and took hold of it” and in His anger, God struck him dead on the spot (2 Samuel 6:6-7).

In the Old Testament, the Ark of the Covenant was where God physically manifested Himself to the people of Israel between the two golden cherubim, and there was a certain way it was to be approached and carried (it definitely wasn’t supposed to be touched by Uzzah, even if he thought he was helping). God’s anger wasn’t aroused because he didn’t follow the rules – it was because of the lack of fear by which Uzzah touched the Ark.

Fearful Worship

In order to really worship God – to deeply, from the bottom of your heart really adore Him – you need to fear Him.

Who shall not fear You, O Lord, and glorify Your name? (Revelation 15:4)

In my Orthodox Church, during the major parts of the liturgy, the word ‘fear’ is always used. Before we read the gospel, the deacon says, “Stand up in the fear of God and listen to the Holy Gospel.” This reminds the congregation that what we are about to read is the Living Word of God that has the power to transform lives. Also, right before the Holy Spirit descends on the bread and wine to mysteriously change them into the Body and Blood of Christ, the deacon chants, “Worship God in fear and trembling.” Whenever the word ‘fear’ is mentioned it is a reminder to wake up and really understand what is taking place around you.

The thing is… God wants to ‘wow’ us with all that He is. He doesn’t want our lives with Him to be routine or ordinary. He wants us to know the He is Holy, Just, Sovereign, Majestic, Powerful, AMAZING – not just in our heads, but in our hearts:

…these people draw near with their mouths and honor Me with their lips, but have removed their hearts far from Me, and their fear toward Me is taught by the commandment of men, therefore, behold, I will again do a marvelous work among this people, a marvelous work and a wonder… (Isaiah 29:13-14).

We need to learn to worship God the way King David did:

But as for me, I will come into Your house in the multitude of Your mercy; in fear of You I will worship toward Your holy temple (Psalm 5:7).

We need to ask Him to open our eyes to the greatness of who He is and all that He does so that we might be able to fearfully worship Him:

I know that whatever God does, it shall be forever. Nothing can be added to it, and nothing taken from it. God does it, that men should fear before Him. (Ecclesiastes 3:14)

We don’t worship a wimpy God – we worship THE LORD!

I can’t put it better than the following quote by Mike Yaconelli:

“I would like to suggest that the Church become a place of terror again; a place where God continually has to tell us, “Fear not”; a place where our relationship with God is not a simple belief or a doctrine or theology, it is God’s burning presence in our lives. I am suggesting that the tame God of relevance be replaced by the God whose very presence shatters our egos into dust, burns our sin into ashes, and strips us naked to reveal the real person within. The Church needs to become a gloriously dangerous place where nothing is safe in God’s presence except us.”

Fear Keeps Us From Sin

This shouldn’t be the primary focus of fearing God but there really is no way around this verse:

But I will show you whom you should fear: Fear him who, after the killing of the body, has power to throw you into hell. Yes, I tell you, fear him. (Luke 12:5)

Put another way: By the fear of the Lord one departs from evil. (Proverbs 16:6)

As Godly men, the fear of God should motivate us to continually seek and pursue Him with all of our hearts in order to be that branch that bears fruit:

Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit He takes away; and every branch that bears fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit. (John 15:2)

Let’s not forget that at the end of it all we will all have to approach His throne to give an account of everything we did in this life:

Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is man’s all. For God will bring every work into judgment, including every secret thing, whether good or evil. (Ecclesiastes 12:13-14)

The Maturation of Fear is Love

Fear is in the beginning: The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge (Proverbs 1:7).

Love is in the end: There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear… but he who fears has not been made perfect in love (1 John 4:18).

What takes place in the middle is really cool:

In Matthew 13, Jesus gives us “The Parable of the Hidden Treasure” and “The Parable of the Pearl of Great Price”

“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and hid; and for joy over it he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant seeking beautiful pearls, who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had and bought it.” (verses 44-46)

In these two stories the two men portrayed are not very business savvy (and one of them is even a merchant!) Why would they sell everything they have to obtain this one thing that they had found? Why not just sell enough of their stuff to buy it for a reasonable price? You can almost look at these parables and say these men were operating with the notion that what they were doing was urgent. It was critically important. It is very possible that they were afraid that someone else would find what they had found and beat them to buying it. They wanted it regardless of what they had to do or sell to get it.

God wants us to be afraid in this way: He wants us to be afraid of losing Him. He wants us to be like these two men in the sense that we’ll do anything in order to have Him – to have more and more of Him in our lives.

In the famous Psalm of repentance, King David pleads “Do not cast me from Your presence or take Your Holy Spirit away from me” (Psalm 51:11).

No, God is not going to leave us or forsake us, but we need to stop treating our sin like it doesn’t matter; we need to stop approaching Him with apathy; we need to be afraid of hurting Him and bringing sorrow to His heart; we need to FEAR Him:

the LORD delights in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love. (Psalm 147:11)

“Our world is… longing to see people whose God is big and holy and frightening and gentle and tender… and ours; a God whose love frightens us into His strong and powerful arms where He longs to whisper those terrifying words, ‘I love you.'” (Mike Yaconelli)