Silent Concessions

"Blessed is the one who does not walk in step with the wicked . . .

or stand in the way that sinners take

or sit in the company of mockers,

but whose delight is in the law of the Lord,

and who meditates on His law day and night."

Psalm 1:1-2, NIV

I learned the above verses as a wee little boy. Life-giving and soul-boosting, the truth contained in them has served me well many a time throughout my life. Sadly, I chose not to heed them at sunset on an unforgettable November day in 1985 when I met a dark stranger in Port-au-Prince (from now on, I will refer to him as Y).

Choosing against heeding God's wisdom will often lead humanity to make some unwise concessions. As my story unfurled, that very scenario took shape.

Concession # 1: Walking in step with the ungodly

As mentioned in the previous post, Y offered to walk me home upon introducing himself to me. While going up the hill, he proceeded to share with me his observations on all kinds of events -- far too many, it seemed -- that took place in my life prior to our meeting. On the one hand, I was listening to Y, completely amazed by all he obviously knew about me and my family; on the other, I gave no indication that I was taking it all in . . . but I definitely was. Almost absentmindedly, I kept climbing the hill and inching ever closer to my home; yet, within, I was also wishing that reaching home would not be the end of this relationship.

In wishing so, I found myself slowly moving from a place of caution to one of accommodation or, even, passive acceptance. Our steps grew more synchronized. Y was no longer walking me home against my consent; we were walking together . . . step by step.

Walking in step with Y, though I did not know it at the time, naturally led me to stand on the edge of a precipice -- a brand new concession.

Concession # 2: Standing in the way taken by the ungodly

As we were walking, he was talking.
As he was talking, my heart stopped questioning.
As my heart stopped questioning, his words kept filling and refilling my motionless senses with a new notion that left me speechless. As my silence grew louder, it further dawned on me that I was not saying anything for fear of revealing that which was too shocking for me to admit -- I felt flattered, admired, and pursued . . . and I [gasp] liked it!

There I was, a minor, a mere 11-year old, listening to the flattering and seductive words uttered by an individual twice my age and yet I did not even shudder. "What can it hurt?" Thus, I counseled myself. Since nobody had ever paid me that kind of attention before and since I was so hungry for it, I saw no reason to guard my stance. So, I was lured into his web and my heart was drawn away from God's wisdom.

When we got close to my house, he said goodbye and requested my permission to walk with me again in the future.

I nodded my head and conceded once more.

Concession # 3: Sitting in the company of the ungodly

After parting ways with Y that evening, I went in but told nothing of my adventure to my family. When asked why it took me so long to get home, I fabricated a tale that shushed anyone and everyone who was hoping for more details. However, for days and days after that, I could not forget that walk.

Two weeks or so later, my sister and I came home one day and found two men in their twenties in conversation with Papi . . . and one of them was Y. The sight of him with my father and the apparent ease with which they were talking took me aback. He was obviously comfortable delving into scripture and discussing deep matters of the faith. In other words, he quickly earned the blessing of my father and I was allowed to have regular conversations with him alone.

Soon, his visits grew to be quite frequent. He would come with all kinds of gifts for Manmie and for me. We would sit together in the gallerie and he would talk to me for hours and hours. Y told me of things that would make my entire family shudder if they could really know that his true intention or hope was to have me all to himself. He filled my head and heart with promises of love, joy, happiness . . . and that he would take me to another island where I could be his boy for life.

I smiled.
I sighed.

I knew I could not concede then.
I knew I had to put an end to my deafening silence.
I knew I could no longer listen to the words that my itching ears enjoyed hearing.

With difficulty, I opened my mouth and said that the Word of God said something different for us. Y said he respected my stance but that he would wait as long as he would need. So, he began waiting for me . . .

For me, however, I tried to take matters into my own hands instead of relying solely on God's Word. I still refused to share any of that deep secret to my loved ones and, by so doing, invited more pain into my heart.

Precious Savior, help me to relinquish control and yield the reins of my life into Your beautiful and secure hands. Help me to follow You all the days of my life. Help me to guard my heart by walking in step with You alone, growing ever stronger and stronger in my faith. In Jesus' name, I pray. Amen.

A Deeper Hole

"Keep me from deceitful ways:

strengthen me according to Your Word."

Psalm 119:29, NIV84

It is time.
It is high time that I resumed the telling of my faith journey.

I checked my calendar today and confirmed that it has been ten months and a day since I wrote Deadly Exposure, the last entry pertaining to my story. Interestingly enough, the most writing I have ever done in my life occurred during these past ten months -- I completed three books, a 47-day Lenten devotional, daily Facebook posts and regular tweets, as well as personal messages to family and friends. Yet, I could not muster the courage needed to end the break from A Follower's Journey.

Why was the break so long?
What kept me away from this particular topic?

There were Summer 2012 projects to tackle, family memories to create, old friendships to rekindle, new songs to learn . . . and childhood recollections to, frankly, avoid at all costs. So, as my story neared my teen years, I nervously began seeing past events in my life as this body of dangerous water -- a tumultuous sea through which I grew more and more reluctant to wade for fear of drowning in shame. To be sure, I was insanely busy; still, I stopped sharing my story out of convenience. Recent events have jolted me back to the reality of an important job left unfinished.

So, here I continue . . .

*********

"Hello, there. What's your name?"

Interrupting my reverie, the strong baritone voice of a man in his early twenties greeted me. I had grown so accustomed to listening solely to my depressing thoughts that I failed, at first, to hear (let alone, heed) the voice. I finally glanced up in the direction of the voice and saw him. Behind his frame, the rays of the setting sun revealed the first thing I could truly see: an exuberant smile accentuated by blindingly white teeth. 

I clumsily muttered, "Lou," under my breath as my eleven year-old self began climbing the steep hill that would eventually lead me home. For some reason, I was both intrigued and worried. The stranger had a penetrating gaze that zapped me like static electricity and I felt as if he already knew me in a way that others had heretofore not been able to do. Yet, I could not remember if/when/where I had seen him before. I quickly surveyed the road and, seeing that we were alone, proceeded to quicken my pace a bit.

"Don't you wish to know my name? I would be happy to walk you home."

"There's no need, sir," I replied. "You don't know where I live and I can certainly find my way home all by myself."

"Oh, I know where you live, Lou."

My hyperactive imagination started running wild:

Could this guy be any creepier?
Could he be looking to kidnap me?
Could he be seeking to hurt me in some way?
Could there be a legitimate reason for him to talk to me?

Again, like a book in his hands, he took one look at me and told me exactly what I was thinking of him.  Seeing my alarmed eyes and sensing my discomfort, he reassured me that he was not planning on kidnapping or hurting me at all but that he needed to come clean. So, he told me his name and confessed that he had been watching me from a distance since I joined Boy's Brigade some years prior, simply waiting for an opportunity when he would see me alone so we could talk.

So, talk he did.
I, in return, was as silent as the grave.
As we walked and he talked, an unusual silence took hold of my entire being as if hypnotized by him and ensnared by his words.

This silence persisted the rest of the way to my house that evening.
This silence marked the life I led for far too long in regards to the relationship that was begun on that fateful evening.

This silence was all it took for me to be caught unawares and held captive by a menacing force that dug a hole deeper than I ever thought possible . . .

O Precious Master, save me from lying lips and deceitful tongues. Help me to remember that only Your Word provides the way of truth. Guide me to set my heart on Your laws so that I might not be put to shame. In the name of Jesus, I pray. Amen!

2012 Haiti Trip (III)

"God is our refuge and strength,

an ever-present help in trouble."

Psalm 46:1, NIV

Finally.
We made it!
We exited the airport.
Our eyes spotted the bus.

We dashed through the sea of would-be helpers and porters (since we could not afford to pay them) and  hastily climbed onto the bus. Once aboard the bus, we were all bubbling with excitement. After all, why would we not be?

We were in Haiti.
We successfully went through customs unscathed.
We were looking forward to all that was awaiting us in Tibouk.

A few moments later, after inhaling some snacks and light refreshments, we prayed and the driver began pulling away from the parking lot. As we went through parts of Port-au-Prince, I could not believe how different things looked from my childhood years. Gone were the paved roads and the working traffic lights. Yet, there was a sense of new beginnings as well. I could see it in the eyes of many passers-by -- they were somewhat more determined, perhaps more driven to survive and succeed as they walked on the street.

We left Port-au-Prince and my mouth dropped.

Before us, there was this newly paved road that looked oh so inviting. On either side of this new two-lane highway, there was beautiful scenery for us to behold. To our left, there was the sea -- so blue, so beautiful, so beckoning. To our right, there was greenery that came in all kinds of shapes, shades, and textures. My heart was drawn to the beauty and I found myself praying and praising God for allowing me to see it. I was encouraged to think that Haiti can indeed rise again.

After a while, the landscape began to change. The more we move towards the north, the more poverty-stricken the towns and people on our path seemed to be. We saw dilapidated houses, naked children, piles and piles of refuse . . . We saw a truck overloaded with merchandise and men, and another that had just been in a fatal accident. Everywhere we looked on the road there were indicators of people seeking a better life, a more secure way to improve their financial state. The state of want was utterly shocking to even me, accustomed though I was supposed to be to Haiti's conditions. The needs were so immense and plentiful that silent tears flew down my cheeks.

Every stop on the road had to be carefully analyzed and planned. Would there be restroom facilities for us to use? Would it be a safe place for a group of Americans to stop? Would we be charged extra just because we look and smell like money to the impoverished inhabitants of the area? Would it unnecessarily lengthen the duration of an already long and strenuous journey?

The two team leaders thought through all such questions and more. It was past 6 pm by the time we arrived in Borgne and we still had a 2-hour bumpy ride ahead of us before reaching Tibouk. We stopped there, stretched our legs, and then proceeded to continue on our way. Several times, I was convinced that the vehicle was going to break down. Other times, when it turned pitch black, I thought of the danger of being stopped by bandits.

There was no doubt about it, my faith was challenged; and I faced fear and discouragement on that first day of our trip. However, God's sustaining hand was guiding us ever more protectively all the way to Tibouk. He taught me to not throw away my trust in Him. He taught me the commitment of perseverance so that when I have done the will of God, I will receive what He has promised me in His Word. He taught me that, indeed, He is a mighty fortress and an ever-present help in trouble.

"Did we in our own strength confide,

Our striving would be losing,

Were not the right man on our side,

The man of God's own choosing.

Dost ask who that may be?

Christ Jesus, it is He.

Lord Sabaoth His name,

From age to age the same,

And He must win the battle."

-- Martin Luther (1483-1546)

Father, I thank You for the wisdom and the discernment found in Your Word that guide Your followers on the strenuous road of faith while on this earth. Thank You for the protection and provision You provide. Help this follower to press on with joy and love in his heart. In Christ alone, I pray. Amen!

2012 Haiti Trip (II)

Despite the peace that I felt within, a lump began forming in my throat as I stepped away from the customer service desk. A college friend who accompanied me on the trip took it upon herself to search for my elusive blue duffel bag, hoping it would magically appear. Yet, all her searching was to no avail. Silent tears filled my eyes as I allowed fear to enter my mind:

How am I going to teach?
How effective can I be without my notes?
How will I ever retrieve my hoped-for materials and belongings?
How am I going to survive without my snacks if I can't eat the food available in Tibouk?

The Holy Spirit shushed me with God's Word to Paul --

"My grace is sufficient for you,

for My power is made perfect in weakness."

2 Corinthians 12:9, NIV

Comforted and strengthened, I told the team leaders that I was ready to leave and we proceeded to go through customs. By then, all the other passengers had already exited the airport, leaving only this group of 21 Americans at the mercy of money-hungry clerks. As I suspected, two head clerks began inspecting our instruments, medical supplies, and anything at all that seemed to scream "money" to them. Soon, the request came -- an astronomical amount of money to let us through. 

Others turned to panic.

Yet, somehow, God's sufficiency kept coming back to my mind.

In fact, as I thought and thought about how sufficient God's grace was for me, my heart became filled with a desire to sing. I heard God's voice say, "Sing!"

"Here?" 

I mean, with all these people around me in the middle of this airport, could I just burst into song? Would that be appropriate?

Within seconds, I realized that God was not interested in my being appropriate; He was interested in my willingness to praise Him and rely on Him. So, I complied.

Soft and low was the first phrase as I began to sing. Then a second and a third erupted into the air. Slowly, those around me began noticing that I was singing and the deafening noise of incessant talking and bargaining lost a bit of its former intensity. After the song ended, I turned to the worship leader who was on the team and asked him if he would lead the whole team in singing. His response was not unlike what I said to God:

"Do you mean . . . here . . . and now?"

My eyes confirmed his request and he started singing,

"Blessed be Your name

In the land that is plentiful

Where Your streams of abundance flow

Blessed be Your name"

Ha! I had not thought of that myself. I had been entertaining the thought of my lack and my want; yet, God is using Matt Redman's lyrics in Haiti to teach me that He is my Shepherd and that He will supply my every need. So, my tenor voice joined in singing:

"Blessed be Your name

When I'm found in the desert place

Though I walk through the wilderness

Blessed be Your name"

Indeed. I can certainly relate to the desert. However, this is not a pity party; this is praise.

"Every blessing You pour out 

I'll turn back to praise

When the darkness closes in Lord

Still I will say

Blessed be the name of the Lord

Blessed be Your name

Blessed be the name of the Lord

Blessed be Your glorious name"

By now, most of the team was singing. My eyes were closed but I could feel the intensity of the singing all around me and I could hear the bargaining becoming less and less noticeable. The Haitian airport workers were wildly interested in our singing and were paying attention to our faces. Then, I thought: "What does it matter that I have no blue duffel bag with my pre-packaged goods to sustain me?" 

"You give and take away

You give and take away

My heart will choose to say

Lord, blessed be Your name"

As the singing came to a close, several airport workers approached us and began talking to us. One, in particular, came to me and said, "I can tell you love Jesus. Your face looks so joyful." God used that man to remind me that as I choose to praise Him with sincerity of heart, others will come to see Him in me. Soon after that, our team leaders returned from the bargaining booth telling us we were free to leave. In fact, as I understand it, we did not have to pay anything.

So, in the end, much more was accomplished without my luggage than would have been had I had it with me all along.

We were then rushed outside and made our way to the bus awaiting us to begin the long drive from Port-au-Prince to the northern village of Tibouk, Haiti.

It should be smooth coasting from then on, right?

Father, I am so grateful that You are always looking for worshipers and that You will do whatever is needed to get a hold of our hearts. When we are distracted and discouraged, strengthen us with the sustaining power of Your grace. Teach us to stop wherever we are on the road and simply worship You. In Christ, I pray. Amen!

2012 Haiti Trip (I)

Tick, tock goes the clock . . .
. . . and it is time for me to re-open the lock.

I am back.
What a break!

From June 29 until August 19, I took a long pause from blogging which interrupted the sharing of my story. There are several reasons explaining the pause but I will mention two big ones because those two serve as a wonderful segue between the first part of my story and the ensuing phase of my spiritual journey.

The first reason is my 2012 Haiti trip.

As soon as I finished posting "Deadly Exposure" on June 29, 2012, my mind became consumed with preparations for my 2012 Haiti trip. Since 1996, I have been going back to Haiti at least once a year to volunteer my time as a music teacher at a wonderful music camp in the North of Haiti -- a camp that was [and has been] instrumental in the deepening of my faith and the developing of my new nature as a man sold out to God. (Several entries will be devoted to that later)

Yet, this year felt very different. For one thing, I did not go to Haiti in 2011, which created a sort of break in the long streak of going once a year. I felt somewhat disconnected since the two-year hiatus prevented any kind of instructional continuity to remain between me and the students I knew. To make matters even more disjointed in my mind, I was to go to a new location (a place I had never visited) with new people (whom I was scheduled to meet upon arrival) and possibly teach entirely different students (whose musical talents and proficiency levels I would not know until I arrived on site).

My questions were:

What do I do?
How do I prepare?
Will I even be effective?
Should I just stay home?

Well, I prayed and prepared the best I could -- teaching materials, healthful snacks I knew I would need as a vegetarian, songs for me to sing, gifts for people I encounter, etc. I left OKC on July 18 in the late afternoon, made it to Miami (after a layover in DFW) at 1 am on July 19, caught a hotel shuttle around 1:30, slumped in bed at 2:00, woke up at 4:45 am to meet the other team members, and together we headed to the Miami international airport from where we flew to Haiti.

Once we landed in Port-au-Prince, we went to the baggage claim area to collect our belongings. Guess whose luggage decided not to make it to the Port-au-Prince Mais Gate airport that morning? Yes, you guessed it:

Yours truly! (bowing)

My luggage was nowhere to be found -- including all the teaching materials I carefully prepared, the snacks I eagerly packed, and the gifts I tenderly wrapped. Talking to the AA baggage clerks only confirmed what I had already imagined -- it was an oversold situation and my luggage simply did not even get on the plane leaving Miami. I was given a notice containing a claim number and a phone number to check on the status of my suitcase. However, having mentally tallied the severe costs of time, money, and energy required for a 14-hour trek from Tibouk to Port-au-Prince, I knew right then and there that I would not have access to my suitcase for a while. Tears filled my eyes as I contemplated spending potetntially 11 days in total need, total dependence, total surrender to God's provision.

Then, it dawned on me that my predicament was a test which challenged me to behave with integrity:

Would I trust God or would I fret?
Would I deny my flesh or would I cling to my perceived rights?
Would I honor Christ with my response or would I discredit His name?
Would I curse ineffective individuals or would I bless them with my forbearance?

Once I realized what that test entailed, a peace that passes all understanding rushed inside of me and I was still. I thanked the baggage clerks for their help and chose to trust God. That was only the beginning of a trip that was packed with unexpected twists and turns on the road -- all of which combined to further transform my heart into one in desperate need of faith.

Father, how can I keep from shouting Your praises? Your hand is ever guiding, ever molding, ever touching, ever soothing, and ever moving me closer to Your heart. Help me to love You more and more on this journey. Amen!

Deadly Exposure

"If You, O Lord,

kept a record of sins,

O Lord, who could stand?

But with You there is forgiveness;

therefore You are feared."

Psalm 130:3-4, NIV

"You can never be too careful."

I do not and cannot remember when I first heard the above phrase. If pressed, I still do not think my memory could squeeze out the reason it was told me as a child. However, I can assuredly testify to the truth and the soundness of its message, especially in the case of the following episode in my life.

My sister's wedding came and went. It was a beautiful and blessed event but, unfortunately and unknown to my family, it left a sour taste in my mouth. So, it was not surprising when, a few days later, I had another bout of severe depression and could not think clearly. Wanting to numb the pain, I set caution aside and went back to reading romance novels -- having chosen to completely deny the deadly grip the world of fantasy had on me just two years prior. The more I devoured such literary smut, the more aware I became of an increasing desire within me to "experience" what I was reading.

Well, having grown up with two God-fearing parents who thoroughly imparted God's standard of pure conduct to me, I fully knew how unwise and dangerous pre-marital sex (of any kind) was for anyone. And, considering the fact that a Boy's Brigade counselor told me  that I would never get married, my twisted and indulging mind grew sick thinking of the tormented life awaiting me. Not once did it enter my mind that I would not have had to battle with such thoughts had I guarded my mind and heart against the lure of romance novels.

One day, I took one of the novels I was reading to school and kept it on my desk, half hidden between folders and notebooks for easy access. Instead of paying attention to the tasks at hand, I would continue reading all the while being careful not to let teachers notice what I was doing. 

I wish it was one of my teachers who did notice.

Well, that day at recess, I was approached by one of the boys who sat in the back of the classroom. In his eyes, there was a steely glint of pleasure and power that worried me. I braced myself for what was coming my way.

What he said next both shocked and intrigued me:

"I saw what you were doing in class and I know what you really want." He was both eyeing and sizing me up as a snake corners an unfortunate prey.

"What was I doing?" was my hesitant reply. 

O, how I wish my tone had not betrayed the worry that suddenly came over me!

"There's no need to pretend," he continued. "You and I both know what I'm talking about. That stuff you're reading is for girls. I can bring you literature fit for the man you're dying to become."

I should have ended it all right then and there while it was still in my power to do so. However, far from being careful, I merely sat there and took the enticing bait. I listened to him and marveled at his promises. The word "literature" should have warned me of the illegitimacy of his claims since I never knew this classmate to be one who actually "read" anything. On the other hand, I was really interested in becoming a "real man" and, perhaps, that boy held the key to the secret which seemed to have bypassed me for far too long. 

The next day, I did not bring a romance novel to school since I was promised "something better." When that came, I was neither prepared nor pleased. It was in the middle of a French Literature class that my classmate dumped an opened magazine on my desk. My eyes grew wide in disbelief as, before me, was laid a page full of images of a sexually explicit nature. 

"This is no literature," I thought. "This is blatant pornography." 

I quickly closed the magazine and promptly returned it to my classmate, being careful not to let our eyes meet. He and I never talked about it again. However, I wish I could have closed my mind as quickly as I did the magazine. I wish I could have shielded my eyes from seeing what I saw.

That single instance of porn viewing had an adverse effect on my heart. Far from lifting me up from the pit of depression, it helped further my descent into despair and dissatisfaction. I felt dirty, guilty, and lonely. I was both repulsed and enticed, a dichotomy that was truly disturbing to me. Everywhere I looked, my photographic memory would replace real-life sights and superimpose those indecent photos onto them. I was having trouble forgiving myself and could not fathom receiving God's forgiveness as I increasingly became more and more consumed by those images. 

At night, when everyone else was asleep, I could freely and remorsefully weep over my sin -- chanting in my heart how I should have handled that unfortunate affair.

In the end, all the should-haves, could-haves, and would-haves in the world could not change my heart because they failed to meet one essential requirement -- I needed to surrender my secret to Christ. Sadly, I kept and nursed that awful secret until it led to deeper pitfalls . . . 

Father, I no longer stand condemned because my whole sin is nailed to the cursed tree of Golgotha. I now stand amazed in the wake of complete forgiveness from the nail-scarred hands of Christ who took upon Himself my wretchedness. Thank You for guiding me to confess to You and to receive Your forgiveness fully even when it is hard to forgive myself. Lead me, O Holy Spirit, to be careful in all my dealings so that I may only do that which pleases and honors You. In the name of Jesus, I pray. Amen!

And the Bride, Not the Brother, Was Ecstatic

Most young boys could care less about weddings . . . Well, their bellies certainly appreciate the food served at the rehearsal dinner and the reception but for the most part, weddings leave the average young boy simply bored and uninterested.

For me, that was not the case.

As far back as I can remember, weddings always fascinated me. As soon as an invitation made its way into our home, my mind would begin the process of waiting with feverish anticipation and longing for the day of the big celebration. On the day of the wedding, I would don my best apparel and would be among the first guests to arrive at the location. Once there, I would dreamily take in the music with all the different instruments and musicians involved. I could never stop admiring the flowers, the beautiful bridesmaids in elegant dresses, and especially the radiant bride.

Though I also loved receptions and cakes, the wedding ceremony was always the main thing that intrigued me. I would pay close attention to see the transformation that always took place in the eyes of the groom when he would spot the bride being led up the aisle to him. I would also tremble with excitement when the officiant would say to the groom, "And now, you may kiss your bride." 

With ecstatic and expectant eyes, the bride would wait for her newly acquired husband to kiss her. And they would both leave the church with joy and satisfaction.

Well, even at 11, I already began imagining how it would be for me. I wonder what my wedding would entail. Who will be my bride? What will she wear? What music would be played? I kept those questions to myself, not wanting to be ridiculed.

One afternoon, my oldest sister came home with the news of her upcoming wedding . . . and my eyes were soon filled with excitement and disbelief. Finally, there was going to be a wedding in my own family. It did not take long for the whole house to be bustling with sundry tasks, activities, and planning sessions. Everybody was giddy and happy about the wedding.

Armed with uncommon ebullience, I excitedly took my news to my peers at school. The kids looked sincerely interested. Encouraged, I decided to share a bit about my own aspiration to someday get married. I was in the middle of describing what type of music I thought I would want to have at my own wedding when I finally realized that the kids were wearing a completely different expression on their faces . . .

. . .  It was purely condescending pity. And worse, it became obvious that they were trying unsuccessfully to suppress their laughter at my expense. A lonely tear trickled down my left cheek and I excused myself, only to hear a loud guffaw exploding behind my back. Later that week, I shared that incident with a leader from the Boys' Brigade association and what was told me there was even more hurtful:

"Don't kid yourself, Lou; you'll never get married. Where are you going to find a girl who would want to marry you?"

Ouch! What was I thinking? I really must not be a normal human being.

Those hurtful thoughts colored the way I viewed my sister's wedding when it took place a few months later. It negatively impacted my view on marriage, in general, for a very long time. I could not get myself to be truly happy for others because all I kept thinking about was how there seemed to be a huge STOP sign in front of my face.

On the day of my sister's wedding, she was ecstatic. Her face was radiant. She looked stunning in her dress and was grateful to enter the mysterious inner circle of holy matrimony.

But, I, her little brother, was not ecstatic.

I sported a smile but my heart was slowly decaying.

Oh, how easy it was for me to be deceived by the sly serpent of bitterness. I was drinking its poison, completely unaware that I was only killing myself. I was shooting my heart with the following bullets:

I will never be a normal person.

I will always be all alone.

I will never be loved.

Gratefully, in time, all those lies were replaced by the truth of a Sovereign Lord who has made me His heir. He made me in His likeness, declaring me perfect in His sight. He walks with me every step of the way, richly provides for my every need, and loves me unconditionally.

He is my Lover.
I am His chosen bride.
I, too, can be radiant and ecstatic.

Father, forgive me for allowing the poisonous words of mockers and naysayers to affect my view on marriage. You, O Christ, are very much in love with Your bride, longing for the day of Your celestial wedding with the church. On that glorious day, Your church will be truly radiant and ecstatic. May I never tire of counseling my heart with Your holy, generous, and transforming truth! You are love, constancy, intimacy, and transparency combined. It matters not what mockers say -- Your Word is that which will always remain. May I walk in Your truth as long as I live! Amen.