Ain’t comin’ ’round here

Everyone has a breaking point.  Everyone has a point where the burdens of this world and the demons of their own torment bring them to a point of almost certain destruction.  What causes this?  Where does it come from?  Upbringing?  Lifestyle?  Or is it all of the above?  Now I am no psychoanalyst, and I am not preparing to write a book; rather, this is just the description of the day that I have had.

When a person comes to that breaking point, what does he/she do?  Do they climb the tallest mountain and dare to jump off?  Or do they get up off the canvas – or as in the words of Travis Tritt, “I’m up off the canvas…You ain’t seen the last of me.”  And how will our future actions define us?  Will they define us as cowards or men and women standing tall to fight the good fight?  We may come back up bruised, battered, and bleeding; but as the Bible tells us “we have already won the war.”

Today I said some pretty hurtful things to my wife, and for justifiable reasons – we’ll just say that she was mad.  She had done nothing to deserve the treatment that I had given her for the last so many months, years?  So why today of all days did I come close to the verge of what I would call a nervous breakdown?  Uncontrollable crying, shaking…or maybe it was the righteousness of God clashing with the worldly nature of my flesh.

As I sat there at Common Ground church crying, begging God’s forgiveness for all the wrong that I had done, and asking him for the love of Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit to come upon me and help me see Amber through the eyes of God.  A woman made by the Almighty to be a man’s nurturer, companion, and the guiding force to keep her man on the straight and narrow.

Then the light hit me through the words and instruction of Pastor Matt Moore: change isn’t something that happens overnight, it takes a long time, sometimes even years.  I have come to realize that I have hurt a lot of people.  Not physically, but emotionally, and it is those people who I must apologize to.  When this happens, we may feel the need to ask forgiveness over and over again.  We’re human, right?

But with God and Jesus Christ, all is forgiven with the first ask.  You know, we are the only race on this earth that takes enjoyment out of hurting one another.  Suffice it to say, a person that beats a toddler to death garners some sort of gross satisfaction.  And by that standard, don’t we all hurt someone in our lives either by way of “not meaning to” or out of malicious behaviour?

I have a lot of proving to do to a lot of people, but the proving seems so much more sensational that staying the same old way.  It’s not going to be an easy road – laying down the old and allowing God to mold my naked clay body, but as I look at the Old Waylon whose very existence clings to life support – which the cord should be ripped from the wall – it is now time to form the “Jesus” Waylon (no blasphemy intended).

I am twenty-six years old now, and I doubt if people can see even the glimmer of Jesus in me, but at twenty-seven, I hope for people to see a man on the change.  And even though the storm clouds of Satan creep in, the glorious light of God shines through. 

I look at Old Waylon laying on the hospital bed with his frail limbs splayed out, his skin pale white, lips drawn back in a sneer, his colorless eyes staring up, the life fading but long from dead, and the one thing I can think is, ain’t comin’ ’round here.


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