So yeah, I'm supposed to be doing NANOWRIMO*
Todd and I decided to to NNWM* because we both want to practice writing and we both need a kick in the pants. Or a dumb acronym. I dunno. Also it's almost 10 pm and neither of us has been spotted jotting a single word of fiction yet today. So... we'll see how that goes.
*shortened. I'm so not typing that out every time I refer to it. You know what? Maybe we'll just go with NN, because why make it more complicated than it has to be?
I'm supposed to be writing about something I tried to live without and can't. There's only one obvious answer to that for me: There was a time when I felt certain that I was not worthy of God's love or attention. I was bitter and angry and hurt by my own perceived failures and experiences with the church and I was ready to take the whole thing and be done with it. God, religion, Christianity, trying to live up to some impossible standard, trying to be someone I wasn't- I tried to turn my back and walk away from all of them, because I was unable to separate them into separate and distinct categories. All of those latter things held me only with chains of guilt, they weren't holding onto me, I was holding onto them. God held me with something much stronger; with the strongest thing that exists.
I never really knew God until I tried to run away from him. All my life had been spent doing the right things, being the good one, the responsible one. All my life had been spent trying to earn God's approval in the ways I was taught, by the system I grew up in, were the only ways to know God. I was hunched over a tiny airless box that everyone insisted contained God, clutching it and talking to it and berating myself when it did not answer. All the time God was everywhere, all around me, trying to love me in spite of my insistence on telling him he was in the box and my pretense that I was good enough for him to love. Finally I broke. My box shattered and my mask fell off and I found myself running, terrified, in a dark, confusing place.
It was the moment he'd been waiting for. He chased after me. He tackled me as I headed into the darkness and held me while I beat my fists against him and screamed at him, until finally I melted into his embrace, and then he carried me back to safety. And I knew, then, that he'd never loved me because I was good. How could he have? Did I really think I could fool God with a mask of proper behavior?!
My God told me he loved me in spite of my facade, not because of it. He saw me and not only did he still love me, he always had. He was just waiting for me to let go of the box and listen to him telling me how beloved I was to him. He was willing to run into the darkness after me and bring me back, even though I was the one running away from him. He was not willing to let me be lost. The strongest thing that exists in this world is love. It is stronger than hate or fear, stronger than evil, stronger than death. And I could never live without it.