An Answer of Sorts

Finally, another posting in a seemingly decreasing interest in writing this blog. It's not that I'm not interested in writing the blog, but when I come up with things to write I nowhere near computer. And by the time I get to one where I can actually write (meaning when I get home), I've completely forgotten anything I had thought about writing. I've had thoughts about Thanksgiving, going to see National Treasure, the death of Dick Ebersol's and Susan St. James' son in that horrible plane crash, the sheer lack of ability to write, and I'm sure there were many other things that I could have written about but never got to. I have a little micro cassette recorder that isn't being used right now, and I should put to use. It's not that you're interested in reading it, but that I'm interested in remembering it.

Anyway, we had our Men's Life meeting yesterday after skipping a week for Thanksgiving. I don't know how much I've talked about this group, but we've looked at father wounds, the too-attached-to-Mom wound, and the all-alone wound (which truly applies to me). Then yesterday, we talked about the final wound, the wound that almost everyone invariably has: the depravity wound. Right offhand, I can't speak too much about it as far as what it means; this was the first of three meetings about it. What we did talk about, however, really hit home. One of the passages we read was Rom. 7, where Paul talked about not doing what he knew he should and doing the things he knew he shouldn't. Other than teaching Sunday school, I can't think of anything positive in my life, nothing worthwhile. I breathe oxygen pretty well, and I have a semi-impressive DVD collection. Other than that, I'm pretty stumped.

For several months now, I've been aware of this darkness within, this darkness that I can't seem to overcome, and apparently a darkness I haven't seen fit to let God into sufficiently to take care of it. I'm really looking forward to hearing more about this because this darkness is just really killing me. It's debilitating and, and I can't imagine hating myself much more than I do. I know God loves me, but it's not a matter of love him. I know God declares me worthy, and that is where my main failing comes. I cannot see anything of worth of my life, and it seems to me that there should be something I can look at, something I can see or point to that I can declare to myself, "you have demonstrated worthiness". And maybe that's part of the problem, that I'm trying to find this, and it's the wrong thing to look for.

I'm such a mess, and I certainly see no way out of it under my own power.