Our dead comrades do you think they’re watching?

I was able to hang out with a beloved classmate last night. It was my town’s homecoming. It was a parade they have in the morning. Let the reader understand. I’m from a small town in Oklahoma. So when homecoming comes around, it’s a bit different than the usual lot. I made myself get out of bed. I figured the socializing would be good for me. For the sake of my mere sanity, not just for that, but to be able to serve him as a brother. I’ve been lamenting how I’ve had to cancel things with friends so much because I’ve been so sick of mind and body. I will praise God that the MS symptoms have improved the past couple of days. There was a possible flare-up with more fatigue than usual. I had a day where I couldn’t keep my food down, either. Was dizzy as well. Trodden, things of that nature. I’ve written so much that I can’t even keep track of it anymore. I’m finally going to upload it. Lord willing, tomorrow. I keep saying that in these writings, but I haven’t done it yet.

Two. The Lord Jesus Christ is my witness. That lately, I’ve wanted to seize such hands upon myself and devote myself to destruction. Yet I’m too afraid to do so. I’m on the utter brink of ruin. I had to depart and go on a walk and talk about these things. Because I don’t know what else to do. The Lord is my witness. If I were to be confronted by an armed robber in the streets tonight, and he gunned me down, I could give two bits about it happening to me. A part of me would probably resist, but I wouldn’t have any fear in my heart at the gun. I’ve been so… I’ve been under such torture from the Almighty. Nothing scares me anymore. I recall a time… maybe around four or five years ago, I confronted a man that struck this girl in the face. She was only a teenager. He was a grown man. Can’t make it up. When I confronted him, he pulled a gun on me. Lord is my witness. I felt nothing. In fact, I wanted him to pull the trigger. But there was a sense of wisdom in me still, of course, because I backed off. There is no comfort. Nobody understands. How do you tell the brethren this at church? Tomorrow’s church. I have to be there for pictures. These things vex and seize upon my soul with anxiety and death. Now, I’m stuck. Trying not to have a complete meltdown, because I want to be there in the morning on time, but I don’t know if that’s going to even be possible at this point. If only I could be sawn in half and discarded, like the rubbish of the world. There is no comfort to be found. The word of God has become my reproach. I feel like the biggest twofold hypocrite that ever existed. Surely no other man is as evil as my heart. What can anyone do for me? There are other important matters going on in the world. Especially with the brethren. In my church body, there have been people ill lately. I’ve been convicted of any kind of self-loathing I tend to do. These things pressed me down to where I wanted to depart to my own place. Let the reader understand. It’s on these kinds of nights. I don’t care if this is the end. I truly don’t. I’m going to die alone. There’s nobody out there for me. Who can understand these things? It’s a strange matter to them.

I’ve talked about it constantly, but David Brainerd comes to mind. That poor man of God, riding horseback with tuberculosis. Ministering to the Native Americans. Giving them the gospel of Christ that can save their souls. He died out there at 29 years old. I keep having the only formulating thought in my head that if somehow I can die at 30, if God could somehow give me a clock, with the amount of time I have left in my life. So I can be of even more earnestness and fervency of spirit to share his gospel with the world. God has utterly ruined me. Smitten me. Stricken me with every sorrowful affliction of mind. I yearn for ignorance. The terminology “ignorance is bliss” is cliché and common, but there is truth to it. I see these two people outside, near the temple. Throwing this Frisbee around. I believe it’s a man and his significant other. I doubt such things have seized upon their conscience to be able to go outside late at night. Have an adventure to enjoy being young. Just living, I suppose. In my eyes… this isn’t living. It’s surviving. I’m in such horror of sin and temptation that I just want to depart from this world. I’m too afraid to take my life. Meaning depart. I want to do what the ancient desert fathers did. And just depart from this present age and go to the wilderness, devoting to prayer and the gospel. In today’s age, I’m grateful for technology. Because you could be in the middle of nowhere and still be proclaiming his kingdom. I ask God. I beg of him to just take away lustful thoughts. Lustful desires. So I can serve him better. I don’t know what to do anymore. I ruminate on the horrors of hell and the need for holiness. I ruminate on the love of God. None of it seems to strike a chord in my soul. Probably hardness of heart. Who knows at this point? I don’t want to hear any sermons. I can only laugh to myself. Act as if… I don’t want to talk about God. But this is all I do. This is all I talk about. Listening to my voice. The sound waves go forth from a sinner talking about salvation.l

Another thought that has seized me. With the way I share God’s word. The thought occurs to me. Would they even want to serve such a god that I depict? Let the reader understand. I’m not blaspheming Christ, nor his nature. But the rumination and summary of my experience with the Most High has been awful. Yet, I tell men that he is the way, the truth, and the life. And I refuse to tell a lie about him. He is good. He is holy. Look at that. With the Lord putting the words from the scroll are lamentation, mourning, and woe, as it says in Ezekiel. I’ve just been trying to do my due diligence to be faithful to that calling. From that, I believed, he confirmed to me. Years ago, when I heard the Book of Ezekiel beckoning me, I can’t say that it was a very enjoyable read. Those kinds of verses have been lost in modern evangelical worlds. I’m so grieved because the people look at you like you have three heads when you tell them the gospel. More than just that God loves them, which is true, but the need of repentance, holiness. The Matthew 7 verse is a warning to the professing Christian that’s lost; they take offense, they’re offended at it. Say you’re a judgmental Pharisee. Whatever else under the sun. I can’t fault them. You have the Joel Osteens of the world. And other charlatan preachers that bring reproach on the word of God. So they hear a watered-down gospel, quoting verses from Jeremiah about how God has plans for you, not for evil, but for good. In the context of that verse, it’s talking about the exiles and included much suffering not online promise but years of tribulation; in the new covenant, this promise can be interpreted as promises for the Christian which is true. But the carnal-minded man… They want the blessings of God, but not God himself. They don’t want Christ These things such vex my soul. And me feeling like the most poorly painted hypocrite in existence.

It seems lately my only continuous thoughts are of rage, embitterment, lust, covetousness, and all sorts of licentiousness and uncleanness of mind, body, soul, and heart. Spirit, all of these things. And I’ve heard the advice, “Why don’t you think about it? Take your eyes off yourself. Look at Christ.” I do that. But I still utterly want to die. If only it was that simple for me to take my eyes off and look at him, which I do every day. But it’s not resolved, the insatiable darkness within. And the sheer hatred I have of my very being it’s easier to tell a fish to not swim. I commit cosmic treason the moment I take a bite of a morsel of food to preserve my life It’s as if the judgment of God is upon my soul. I was bedridden over 13 hours, feeling condemned, reprobate. In despair. Tired from the ms Could barely rise up. My stomach is churning within. When I finally arose, I thought I had an appetite. And I started to eat. And I couldn’t stomach it; I had to throw out the food. Felt convicted of wasting, knowing there are people starving right now. How much have I wasted? What a joke. On top of that, I’ve been very vexed by my cholesterol being very high. Food is expensive. Been praying for provision of being able to afford and get the right kinds of food. I had stopped eating meat for a while, but I got so loathsome of the beans, the lentils, and other healthy replacements that I couldn’t even eat them anymore. I would take a bite. It would feel sick. Such are the consequences of living by Babylon’s food.

I’ve been reading accounts of past Puritans that left suicidal journal notes behind. Puritans were people during the age after the Great Reformation in the 1600s and 1700s. They were a zealous group. Most of them devoted themselves to the doctrine of Calvinism. That God has already chosen who’s saved and who’s damned. And there’s nothing you can do to reverse these things. And thus, that doctrine seized upon their conscience so that many of them would die by their own hand. I don’t call myself a Calvinist or an Arminian. Reformed, all these things vex me. Seeing the podcasts of different theology and all the talking and… It’s just a burden to my very being and my soul. I don’t even care anymore. I just want Christ proclaimed. I follow. I follow the Carpenter. That’s my denomination. Though there are many of these different denominations and various teachings and theologies inside the faith, they have helped me much. I have much thanks to give to the reformed brethren and teachers, as they’ve helped elevate my faith. Were they perfect? By no means. Nor did I agree with everything. But I believe that they were faithful stewards. The late Voddie Baucham comes to mind. He died in his 50s. He helped me a lot as well. I was listening to an old sermon from him called Let That Stuff Go. The true meaning of the story of Joseph has been misinterpreted, even in my own life. He really opened my eyes to that story. Joseph shouldn’t have been in Egypt. He was supposed to be with God’s people. His soul was in torment in Egypt, as it’s written, “God has made me fruitful in a land of my affliction.” The story of an elevation to power. Second most powerful at the pharaoh’s hand, seeing as prosperity and joy are a good outcome. Yes, God did use what happened. His brothers selling him into slavery. But he wasn’t supposed to be there. Yet God used him. The message was centered around unforgiveness and how you must let things go. As the Carpenter himself said, “If you don’t forgive others of their trespasses, the Father will not forgive you of yours.”

I’ve been tormented in my own thoughts lately. Wondering if I’m harboring any kind of unforgiveness, because I have a memory that comes to mind, and I’m filled with anger, even grief. These things vex my soul. I can only cry out to God, on account of my hypocrisy, if I am harboring anything. I beg that I’m not. I have to move onto a different topic. These things start to break my mind, ’cause I’m reminded deep within these thoughts concerning that passage of scripture. My reading life has been in such chaos and pandemonium. I don’t know what to read anymore. I don’t have the set schedule. Most of my days concerning my spiritual walk, I’m reading older accounts of saints, such as Brainerd. Robert Murray M’Cheyne and Spurgeon. Men that dealt with various, similar, religious melancholy, things of this nature in this blog. There’s nothing new under the sun. In a mystic experience, it’s almost as if I’ve experienced reincarnation with these men. Because when I look at their writings, it’s as if I wrote them myself. Obviously, reincarnation is not a real thing according to the scriptures. The verse of Hebrews comes to mind on these nights where it says, “We’re surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses.” I think of Attack on Titan where Hange talks to Levi. And she asked him, “Do you think they’re watching us right now?” Our dead comrades. And then it shows the imagery of all of them that have died by Titans and humanity. And Levi says, “Don’t start sounding like him.” Namely, talking about Erwin. I also have the thought in my head to my friends and classmates that have died early in life so I’m gonna have taken their lives, even to my very grief and sorrow…. Are they watching?

This comes to mind because this is how I feel. I do wonder if those saints of God… Bunyan. William Cowper. Are they watching right now? This Christ in them. Are they watching? Cheering me on to keep fighting the fights of the faith? Continue. I ponder these things sometimes.

The town is quiet tonight. I’ve seen a few souls out and about. I do enjoy this town. Grateful for being brought up in Guthrie. I don’t plan on moving. So many heartfelt memories. As I’ve taken a seat, one of my best friends, Eli, comes to mind. I can only chuckle to myself every Friday night. After junior high and in high school, namely freshman year, we would leave school. Especially on homecoming, it would be early. And we would go to Homeland. If you know, you know. It used to be Homeland. Now it’s a Cash Saver. In my mind, it’s always Homeland. Nevertheless, so we would go to Homeland and get fried chicken. The deal on it was always so good. And then we would go into this parking lot, the alley of this parking lot at this bank. We would eat the chicken and discard the bones, laughing, having a blast. And then we would walk around until game time. Headed to the stadium. It’s not that I want those days back. It’s just that I can look on them fondly. With many companions that I had growing up. I don’t talk to them every day now. But still, nevertheless, the love is always there, and they’re in my heart. And I’m just grateful for it. I was given friends to live life with. Especially in school and in high school.

I keep talking about it, but if only the Lord could give me the gift of singleness, namely, in my mind, someone that doesn’t yearn for companionship. I’ve mentioned this before in other blogs, but my heart is so prone to idolatry when it comes to relationships, because I exalt that relationship above God I feel that He is continually disappointed with me. So when I meet someone that actually cares about me, I’ve never experienced such things before in my mind. Namely, after I came to salvation, being saved. Such was the case in the fall… looking at the twilight at the stars together I remember.

There have been times when God has poured out His spirit. As it is written, the spirit bears witness that we are children of God. We cry out, “Abba, Father,” in Romans. I’ve had bits and pieces of it. Lately, that hasn’t really been a reality for me. So what’s vacant, you will seek to replace it with something else. I read somewhere. I need to find this quote again. It was somewhere along the lines of… If the joys of the spirit are taken away, one will seek the flesh to compensate for its loss. These things have me put my head down in shame. How many times have I betrayed the Carpenter for lust? Idolatry, greed, enmity, strife. Fits of rage. How many times? Even accusing God. I look at him. “You don’t give me any joy. So I’m rebuked for going to sin.” The heart of a sinner—it’s a maddening, foolish matter. Accusing the creator of the universe. What man can complain in the sight of his sins? as Jeremiah said. Yet I do it every single day I’m awake.

A prayer meeting, Holy Spirit night with the brethren, came to mind. As far as sharing and suffering with the saints. There have been so many afflicted men and women of God in my congregation. Hearing the testimonies of different brethren in the church reminded me that I’m not alone. The sufferings of God’s people are not all the same. Nevertheless, suffering is suffering, and we must share in the sufferings of the brotherhood. I look to post old audios I had recorded when I was out and about throughout life. Old Bible studies, things of that nature. Unfortunately, many of them are lost that I wish I still had. But a beloved brother comes to mind. Had a wild encounter a few months back. I was outside my job on my break. And I saw him. He was leaning over his car. And it’s as if my spirit bore witness to his condition. The thought immediately came to mind: he’s suicidal. Looking at his posture and just what he was giving off, I could tell. So after he got off the phone, I went up to him. We talked. I started off with small talk, saying how things were, and he was nonchalant. Of course, I’m a complete stranger. So I opened up about my story. How I deal with OCD. Namely, scrupulosity. I tried to take my life twice. Think about it quite often. And… With recalling these things… I’m reminded of my sheer unbelief of how real God is, because, to my astonishment, he deals with the same thing.

Tormented by scruples, thinking that he’s condemned. And an overactive conscience—turns out he’s a brother in Christ as well prior to our talk he shared he was practicing with a noose to hang himself two weeks prior , dealing with the same afflictions. So we traded numbers and we are in touch to this day. He was actually traveling out of state, and we both were astonished at the sheer fact of how all the things had to be lined up for us to meet just on that day. God amazes me. Truly, he does.

I’ve become trodden down, torn limb from limb. I don’t know what to make of myself. I may not have looked upon pornography, but my thought life has not been much better. Lustful thoughts, sickening things. These things make me want to go to the grave itself. There is no excuse for sin. I feel that my very being and existence brings reproach on the church, even my family. I’m ashamed. Solomon says in Ecclesiastes, “Don’t ask why the old days are better than now.” Such things are not from wisdom. I find myself doing this lately. Going back to days when I was saved and the days I wasn’t. Not necessarily wanting the days back. I want those feelings back. I want the present reality of where I was at in that place. To be in love is such a powerful thing. So powerful to where… whenever it’s over, it’s as if everything else doesn’t matter.

I want people to know that God saves sinners. Even myself. I know there have been professing Christians that have turned people off to the faith. They haven’t been good ministers and evangelists. So when someone tries to tell them the gospel, they immediately are upset because someone called them a filthy sinner and said that they’re worthy of hell and God hates them, which is not biblical by any means. The hatred and the love of God are simultaneous for the sinner. Those who aren’t in Christ, but he sent Christ to die for them. But these types of men parade over it. They almost enjoy telling them that they’re sinners and they’re no good. To my astonishment, as if they aren’t sinners themselves. They bring reproach on the faith. I’m walking through the streets still. Near the Jungle. A local bar in my town. I wonder about the people inside. If I were to talk to anybody about the gospel, what would their responses be, or how many have been hurt by people that come in the name of Christ, but… They clearly don’t have his spirit. These things are ever before me. I’m open about my temptation and inner thoughts to show the world that the Christian is not without sin. The moment you put your faith in Christ, you’re made perfect. Your sins are forgiven, and Christ sees you. The Father sees you. The righteousness of Christ and his perfect life lived on earth is now put on you. But there is still a remainder, namely the flesh, also called the old man, in the scriptures and throughout church history. The world gets this notion that we don’t wrestle with these things.

I was talking to my friend the other day. Yes, of course, I want to run into all sorts of fornication, sin, debauchery, drunkenness, and idolatry. Downloading Tinder for the thrill of it, wasting away my youth. Drinking from other cisterns besides Christ. It beckons every day. I have to avert my eyes from much social media. Especially on Pinterest, where I get much inspiration for ideas. I’ll see videos of parties Just indulging in vanity. Namely, in the house of feasting, not in the house of mourning, which is better.

Being in the house of mourning… It hasn’t been very pleasant lately. I’ll get reminded of my days when I was lawless, drinking at parties, and other abominable idolatries. “Maybe you should try it again, just one last time.” I can only scoff and laugh. Such things are a lie. I know they are. What will it profit? Sorrow, misery. It’ll be fun for a time, but then it’ll end. The world dresses itself up as a fine harlot arrayed in all sorts of garments, beckoning sinners: “Have a taste, enjoy. Religion, godliness—it is a thing of the old age. We’re in a new generation. Generation of technology. AI. We have our own creation. That old book—it’s outdated. Science has proved all these new things. Come, look, have fun. Live it up, eat, and drink. It’s all going to be okay. And if you die, You don’t need the Carpenter to get to heaven. All people go to paradise. It’s not that God is one being. He’s the source of life. He lives in every one of you. He’s building you up for a better future. To give you good things, good gifts. He wants you to live it up now and have fun. Those Christians, they don’t get it. I found something new. You found something new. And I’m going to support you all the way to the end. I’m so proud of you.”

Brethren, these are the lies of the devil. Even uttering such things, it’s as if I myself could believe them. There’s a way that seems right to man, but it ultimately leads to death. Namely, eternal death. The lake of fire, weeping and gnashing of teeth, outer darkness. Where the presence of God is withdrawn, only his wrath remains and his utter hatred towards sinners.

I don’t say these things in a self-righteous attitude. “Look at you. I found it. You haven’t. I’m better. I know something you don’t.” Don’t misplace my tone for such lies. I say these things in simplicity to show you the truth of the matter. What this world offers is so fleeting. To my horror, I’m reminded about how the Carpenter himself said, “Few there be that find it.” Few there be that find it… More people will be in hell than in heaven. These things vex my soul. If only God in His great, mighty mercy could somehow save me, if possible, and save every single person that I know who hasn’t died yet and who’s not saved, which there are many that I know, family and friend alike. I have visions of the damned. Looking at faces of friends that I much love and adore, and family members as well. And how, in the blink of an eyeThey’ll become a horror to all of creation. Their worm will not die. The fire will not be quenched (Isaiah 66:24) I see their being very defaced, consumed by hell itself, flesh melting away, rebuilt, melted more, and rebuilt. Not eternally annihilated, but eternally destroyed over and over and over again. I spent nights and shed tears about what waits the ungodly And they haunt me. The Almighty God above scares me. I’m not the one that does the saving. I can only scoff. Even if I could, I wouldn’t. It’s not my place. That’s up to the Holy Spirit.

The music outside the bars is actually not that bad. It’s a song of lament. Reminds me of the song… from Black Ops 2, the intro song the night will always win That beloved game is almost 13 years old now. Freshman year was that long ago huh What an astonishment. Life is a vapor. I think about a lot of those people I played with. The oldest gaming friend that I have still in touch with to this day, from those days of old, is one. A Mad Beaver. Huh. If she reads this, only she will understand and know we met during Modern Warfare 3. I believe it was on the map, Bakaara, a Search and Destroy match. We were just joking around playing. I thought she was so funny. She did, too, with me. So we became friends on PS3. And we played for years. We had our own group and everything. It all doesn’t feel real sometimes. Even with the fact that next year is my 10-year reunion, I need to get with my class president to do some sort of edit. Some sort of thing we all could put together. I wasn’t the closest to all my classmates. I kind of was a drifter. I took it for granted. Sometimes I regret it. Towards the end of high school, I was so absorbed with editing anime and editing in general. I withdrew from much of my IRLs. Oh, so consumed with the virtual world. Like it was a dream. A virtual reality, you could say. Vine, all of it. In doing so I rejected family and friends to my Shame. God really does save what’s foolish in this world to shame the strong. If I am saved, which in all my soul, I hope I am, I’ll be surprised on that day. To see the Carpenter’s face in the face of others. The other saints of God that went through the same struggles as these torments of mind, hope, joy, hatred, love, and all these things. Selah.

I really would like to get a therapist to talk to. It’s a sad matter that ChatGPT is my therapist. I’m sure the programmers that observe these chats are perplexed by it all The ones that I looked for that take my insurance, they’re too far away. I don’t want to drive that long. It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s namely that I don’t know how fatigued I’m going to be feeling that day. I’ve been very limited by the MS as of late. So I have to take comfort in my own soul and counsel I have to depart on these nights and speak about these things. ‘Cause I suppose it’ll help somebody. To me, it’s a form of worship. One could even say a vent. Because if I don’t do it, I might very well do something I regret to myself. It’s the only thing I know what to do. I cannot lay these matters upon my family and the brethren all day and night. It’s too much. That is why I’m convinced I’ll die alone. For someone to bear these things, to deal with, it’s too much. And as I’ve mentioned, I don’t want to bring a child into this world to undergo such possible hell of a mind. Life feels like a poorly painted joke. Like out of a dark comedy, like Dante’s Inferno. Just a wretched sinner.

I can barely stay awake as of late. I can’t even go to the world; when I do, God utterly beats me with his rod and then vanishes into smoke, watching, waiting, for me to mess up again. As it’s written, when we’re disciplined, it’s so we’re not condemned with the rest of the world. God is most angry when he’s quiet. I’ll take these rebukes over none and perishing eternally forever. Yes, amen. Lord willing, I would like to get my book out. There are a couple of different ones. One for remedies against scrupulosity. And the other… My testimony… Not that it even matters to me, but that it could help somebody. John Bunyan helped me dearly. When I was married, I was in such shock at his letters it gave me the boost I needed to know I wasn’t alone with these fears Blessed is that man, giving me comfort in my afflictions, through his afflictions, as Paul wrote about, when we’re afflicted, it’s for your sake, and when we’re comforted, it’s for your sake. The saints of God—there’s a union between Christ and the brethren. We share in the sufferings of Christ in unique ways. Some are similar to others, and some are different. But usually to those similar, it’s a sweet aroma. You could even say a sacrifice. Sweet like honey. A balm of ointment for the sour wound, festering. As of late, it’s as if the whole head has been sick. Will striking it do any better for my case?

I have the heart of a rebel, which is worse than witchcraft. As it’s written. Whether someone is a Christian or not, my heart hurts for so many that are suicidal, especially men. There’ll be stories, men with family bearing up their own suffering in silence, and then they die at their own hand. The whole family, the wife, was in shock. They had no idea of the torment he was going through. Men in their harshness will say, “He’s a coward.” Only cowards do that. I ask you to consider this, those of you who have these staunch, brutal remarks. Do you know what it feels like? Would you like for someone to call you a coward? Do you feel like wanting to die every day? Even professing believers were pronouncing damnation on them, as if they knew whether their heart was with the Lord or not. These things upset me. And when I hear people talk lightly on mental illness and health, I keep my mouth silent. And I shut it, lest I say something very foolish in anger. I’m already in such annoyance about it in the first place. Those that don’t deal with it, where they mock and even laugh. “Oh, don’t be depressed. It’s in your head. Why do you feel like this?” On and on, just going on and on and on. They just don’t know. Because if they knew, they wouldn’t speak of it in such a way. The crucifixion of the mind… I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. Unless it was Satan himself. Because I do hate Satan. To hell, he goes into perdition with the Antichrist and the false prophet. The Son of Destruction

My eyes are starting to get somewhat heavier now, thankfully. Before I departed, I was in such an array on the brink of ruin. I was afraid of what I would do to myself. So, frankly, the Lord has given me some comfort. I don’t deserve any of it, but he gave it. Or it could be that I’ve talked so much that I’m in tatters and worn out from bringing these things to remembrance. What’s deep within, hiding. The afflictions, the sorrow and pain. What could have been is before my mind. If only. In a different life. What choice does one have but to go forward? For the gospel’s sake. There is no option. There must be action. To live and to die for Christ. Whether with assurance or without assurance. I’m sick of lustful thoughts. It breaks me to bits. I’m so afraid of lust in person to where I don’t even want to go out anymore. I’ll get so stricken with grief and fear that it vexes and torments my very being and soul. These things can seem like the most foolish things to some, but they mean the most to me. “Why do you take it so seriously?” If only it was that easy, friend. Truly, I tell you. If only it was that easy. Oh, Lord, if you would just give me a steadfast heart to do your will, to continue on, to keep me from sin. To have mercy on my soul, which deserves perdition itself. If only I could be content in the Carpenter and nothing and nobody else—I have the heart of a harlot. I play the whore every day. Going after vanity. Out of emptiness, blaming God. All these things are ever before me. And I am downcast within.

I yearn to not be so sensitive and such a people pleaser. If you proclaim the gospel, you will be hated. You will be persecuted. Persecution in America is a slap on the wrist compared to what the other brethren around the world are going through. The brethren in Nigeria are under such persecution and genocide. And my prayers go out to them, that they don’t renounce the faith and are faithful unto death. And I pray for myself that I am faithful unto death. I don’t want to be damned, on the account of cowardice, as it is written, the cowardly will have their part in the lake of fire. And in another place, “Whoever denies me before men, I will deny before my Father in heaven. Whoever is ashamed of me before men, I’ll be ashamed of him before the Father.” I suppose if I’m to be damned, I’ll be damned on behalf of the account of zeal, not cowardice, and denying the Lord Jesus Christ. How many men have shrunk back into perdition? They took interest in the Carpenter and his words, Christianity, but they were scared of what people thought of them.

They shrunk back. It’s a sad matter. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. They endure for a time, then they fall away. Parable of the Soils comes to mind. Men just play with religion and go to the Bible study for about a month. Go back to the world. No change of heart. What’s the point? Why wake up and go to church if you’re not saved? Why lift your hands in worship if you don’t love God in your heart? You think his commands are burdensome. There are people. There are people sitting in the pews of the church, perishing. The more and more they hear about Christ, the worse their damnation will be. As it’s written, a servant that knew the master’s will will be beaten with many blows. The one who did not know was beaten with few. Woe to that man who betrays the Son of Man. It would have been better for him to have never been born. To the absolute horror that awaits the sinner without Christ. It is better to indeed have never been born than to go to that place.

Because you denied or rejected Christ. I fear for my own soul; my soul is so drawn to this world, the love of my life. The thought strikes me. What if I’m just a tool of destruction given to understand what God’s word says, to spread his message, but I myself be damned. I picture God saying to me, “I’m going to use you, but you yourself won’t be saved. So you better do what you should do, because there’s nothing you can do about it.” These things bring me into such despondency. In fact, these are the things ever before my mind. I don’t know what to tell people anymore that ask, “How’s your day going?” What the hell do I even say? Besides “good”? “I’m fine. I’m good. I’m okay.” Not the person’s fault. Let the reader understand. I’m forever grateful for the brethren and my friends. But the human heart is a lonely place. As it’s written: No stranger shares in its joy.

A few things push me to keep going, to not seize my own life. besides God himself, and the fear of God. Whenever I’m playing with my niece, who’s not even one yet… And I look at her. I look at her in her eyes. And she doesn’t have a speck of hatred towards me. She looks at me as if I’m perfect. She laughs. Every time she sees me, she smiles. Embraces me. When I call her name, she responds. I pick her up when we play. Before I departed tonight to talk, I lay on the floor next to her. And she was playing her piano. That smile. That innocence, one could say. Gives me hope. But the fact that… She could look at her uncle, who is full of such sin and evil, with love. Not rebuke. I can only bank on mercy. The character of God to be the same. Those moments keep me going. In the morning. The day my parents found me, the day my family found me when I tried to take my life. The voicemail my mother left me It echoes in my head. I replay it sometimes to this day. I never heard her sound like that in her life. And she told me… “You can’t do this to me ever again. You can’t do this to me ever again.” She was in such shock and grief. She was bedridden for a day or two to follow from the grief that her son might have possibly killed himself.

Yeah. It’s hard for me to even put these things down. But I suppose what keeps me from taking my life. These are the faces I have in my head of my family and friends. If they found me dead. The weeping and wailing that they would do… they would refuse to be comforted. I think about the past. YouTube videos and documentaries I’ve seen of mothers that gave their story of how they dealt with the suicide of their children. The grief and sorrow that they went through…. One had her son take his life. Then her daughter followed right after. She talks about how she’s still scarred to this day. She can’t recover. She can only cope. It’s these things that keep a sobriety of mind. On these nights, I want to depart this world. It’s those things, those memories that beckon and remind me not to do it. I still want to. But I don’t. For the sake of others. I stay my hand. And I suppose the gospel, the fact that there are so many souls lost. That keeps me as well. If I can do anything to help save even one soul, I’ll gladly give all, even in this mindset. I’m sated with grief, and I’m so tired. I just want to sleep all day tomorrow. But I can’t. So vexed inwardly. Feel so alone in these hours Ha. Though, really, you’re never alone. Praise God. That it’s a lonely night. 12:30 already. Crazy how it just flew by. Didn’t expect it to go by this fast. It’s time to start heading home.

I’m praying that I can have a renewed appetite. I just don’t have it right now. The thought of food is loathsome to me. I remember whenever I was married, my figure was reduced to bones. I looked so sick. I’m not meant to be that skinny. It was hard to eat in those days. Terrors from the Almighty, anxiety. All the things. But by God’s grace, he did restore me in time. Gave me a new appetite. Where I was able to gain weight again. Thank God. I suppose one comfort is knowing that, though not perfectly, I’m walking in the will of God, namely, using what he’s given me for his kingdom. This blog, Hope and Madness, the editing. I have to give it my all with the time I’ve been allotted. And the appointed time is becoming shorter and shorter. Salvation is nearer than the day you first heard it. Indeed, praise God. I’m craving a olipop at the moment. There might be some in the fridge. As silly as it can be, the soul must recount the small moments, the meal that was given to Elijah when he departed. Fainted under the juniper tree. He woke up to water and food. I’ve had days of crashing out. I recall a time when I was in the Target parking lot years ago in despair.

And that Chick-fil-A chicken sandwich, along with the frosted lemonade. It’s as if nothing tasted greater than it. And I was indeed grateful. Even though I was angry at God in my heart, worthy of destruction. we must not grumble, lest we be destroyed like the Jews were. We have to take the Carpenter’s words seriously. Men get lost in the new covenant as if God is not the God of the Old Testament. Ananias and Sapphira dropped dead for lying to the Holy Spirit. The same things happen today. Not always documented. God is good, but he’s very dangerous. Men don’t see this reality. They just don’t get it. They don’t understand how it’s a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.

With a couple of closing notes, Heath Ledger has come to mind, as I’ve mentioned him before. In a sense, I’ve related and understood myself. And how I relate to that man and his dedication to the role of the Joker. He would do extreme things, such as locking himself in a hotel for months with the Joker’s Journal. He always acted like the Joker, even outside of character, to play that role perfectly and precisely. But what came were deadly consequences. He took prescription medication, and he had an accidental overdose. Lord have mercy on his soul, and may he be found righteous in his last moments of death. Only God knows men’s hearts in their last moments. I relate to this because, though I’m not trying to play the role of a character like the Joker, it’s as if with the scrupulous thoughts and the horrors of hell, the ruminations and meditations on the wrath of God. The Holy Scriptures, the lamentation, mourning, and woe from Ezekiel, let the reader understand the judgments of God against sin, heaven, hell, the lake of fire, judgment, how God is keeping note of everything to be revealed on that great day, and the great white throne of judgment. I saw the psychological accumulation of how I’ve been thinking about God since I could remember as a child filled with fear All for this purpose, it seems like. The visions and the imagery of the lake of fire I get in my head. The depictions I’ve tried to make through AI, though it does not do it justice to know how horrifying it’ll be. The songs. The sermons, the scriptures. Like Ledger, it has caused ruin in a way. Because I don’t know what else to do. I can’t undo the way I think. It’s always there. There are seasons where the Lord’s face shines upon me. The Holy Ghost is comforting me. But I would say the summary of my salvation has been terror, fear, and psychological and religious trauma. I’m not saying God is the one to blame, nor is God evil for this. But the answer is that we live in a fallen world, and I’m a sinner. I found great comfort in that. The men of old, especially the Puritans, I know, could relate to this if I could talk to them to this day. I read somewhere that one man even debated that the Puritans were obsessed with sin. I believe it was called The Scarlet Letter, which that one Puritan man wrote. It was based on sin and obsession with sin. Namely, how to kill it. How to avoid it.

I tend to miss, to my own frustrations, the basics of salvation. The basics of salvation, meaning… Simply loving God. In my mind, I just—I can’t, wretched man that I am; the things I want to do, I don’t do. I wish it wasn’t so. I want to serve God out of love, not fear. As it’s written, the fear of God is the beginning of all wisdom. However, it’s enslaving if there’s only fear, not love. I yearn for a day I can wake up and say, “Oh, I delight to do the will of God today.” Out of my love for him. Not killing sin, not out of mere fear. But also love. Out of your name. Who you are, who your son is, and who your spirit is—I yearn for that day. Let me correct myself. Obviously, I do this, because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t serve God at all. It’s just that at the forefront of my mind, it’s that fear. It’s that perverted view of God in my own foolish mind, my own fallen mind, that I don’t have right. I can only laugh sometimes.

I recall the dream I had. God sends me very spiritual dreams. I’ve also had very demonic dreams. There was a time, maybe about two years ago, when I fell into a deep slumber, and I woke up, and I perceived that I was in some sort of spiritual place. One could say paradise, heaven. And I saw this older lady. It almost doesn’t feel real talking about it, but it did happen. Lord is my witness. And I asked her. I knew she was an angel in my mind, and I asked her, “Why has it been so hard?” Namely, my condition? All the trials. Everything. I wanted to know. And she said, starkly and plainly, “It’s because Satan hates your family.” I never considered such a thought. As obvious as it is, I come from a lineage that shows the gospel. There’s nothing more dangerous and that makes Satan more furious than such a thing. I ponder that from time to time.

In a strange way, I dream about my classmates fairly often. To our late classmates that died early. One, her name was Lexi. We weren’t close by any means, growing up in school. She died unexpectedly, shortly after we graduated in 2016. I had a distant good memory of her. The one encounter, I think, that we ever had in our whole life together, actually, in school, was in fifth grade. No, it may have been even fourth grade. No, it was fifth grade. We were in gym class with the teacher, Miss Novey. Lord, forgive me for the grief I would cause her. I’m grateful for her service of serving as a teacher. She’s no longer in the world now. Lexi would lord it over me, trying to command how I should serve the ball and play, and we would argue back and forth, going back and forth. It was all in fun. Looking back, it’s as if… Whenever we turned away, we probably were smirking about it, because it was so silly. Heartfelt memories that I have of her. After that, I didn’t say a word to her. I wish I would have. I wish I would have said many more things to a lot of my classmates.

Going back to the dream. Slumber fell on me once again, like I said. And I woke up, and once again, what I perceived to be is heaven. Some sort of paradise. And I saw her, Lexi. And I said, “Lexi, is that you?” Basically, in my mind, you know, the conversations during dreams are strange. It’s as if, in my mind, I exchanged back and forth in my head, “Is that you?” She said, “Yes.” Obviously. But then, perceiving that I was in heaven, I looked at her, and I said, “Did you make it?” Then she said yes. And I just started weeping in the dream. I don’t think that I woke up. I probably was crying in my sleep. On her time on Earth, she was a Christian. I know that much. I believe I’ll see her on that day, if I’m found faithful in the Book of Life. I’d like to talk to her about these things. If that cloud of witnesses really is listening and watching right now, I suppose she is, too, with the saints of God.

The other dream was with a girl named Kylie. This messed me up, actually. Because I was closer to her. I’ve been suicidal since I could remember and just hated life. But I remember it was seventh grade. She was a new student there. And I liked her very much. In fact, I would get such butterflies in my stomach when I saw her, because her smile was so welcoming. Thought her soul was very lovely. Taking it even further. I believe it was the transition between third and fourth hour at the old Guthrie Junior High. It would have been at that woodworking shop downstairs. It’d be right there in that area. I can’t really describe it. Just about every day, she’d come and run and give me a hug. I can only chuckle. That hug meant a thousand words at that time in my life. After those years, we fell out of touch. I saw her around, but I didn’t talk to her. Like I said, I wish I could go back. But no regrets. I don’t want to live the same; there are no regrets. I don’t want to live thinking I should have. Do you ever know when it’s going to be the right choice? You have to choose. In the end, you’ll never really know. Take the jump. Be bold.

She appeared in my dreams a few years ago as well. This time it wasn’t in heaven. It was just my dreams. She was brutally murdered by this man. It was a cold case in 2016. Later, justice was served, and the killer confessed. He was sentenced to life in prison. I pray that he finds the Lord if he hasn’t. I had anger towards him in my heart nad you could even say hatred for. But I had to remind myself that’s not the mind of Christ. He desires all men to be saved, no matter what they’ve done. I’m tired of death. I’m tired of friends I know, and acquaintances I knew that have died early.

One last account. Another girl I went to school with was Lily. This messed me up as well. Still does, thinking about it. My dad, namely, my biological dad—her parents and him, we all knew each other. We would go over to their house. I believe it was around sophomore year. I was awkward and skittish as ever as a kid. I had a bit of a crush on her. But once again, I can only laugh. I was too afraid to pursue. Thought she was very pretty. Just very relaxed and chill. We would talk off and on, as friends. We actually would encounter each other at parties we would go to. Uh, I can only curse myself because I lost a picture. But there was a picture we took; I believe it was my senior or junior year. We were at a party together. And we took the picture together. I was in this galaxy hoodie I had at the time. It’s ingrained in my head. I haven’t forgotten. Oh, I really wish I had that picture… Anyways… After high school, we weren’t in touch consistently. But I remember whenever she was working at Boomerang, it would have been around 2018 or 2019. I saw her. And I talked about that picture that we took together. We both laughed and reminisced. I was so gone that night. I’d been drinking so much. I used to live a wild life; let the reader know, God does not save good people. I remember I went home that night, and I tagged her in the post as a reminder since I kept it. Then to my grave news. This would have been around 2020 or 2021. I can’t remember precisely when she died. And that hurt. I remember the night I heard, and I fell on my knees in prayer on her behalf.

The last account I must bring up was an online friend I had. We all used to edit together. I have an editing group called Clouded Illusions. They all are a bunch of madmen, truly. The AMV Brethren. I love them dearly. He was a part of it. The other day, I was on a Discord call with another friend in the group talking about this friend of ours. How excited and thrilled he was to get into the Clouded Illusions when I let him in. And I know how much he wanted to get in. He was such a talented editor. The friend I was talking to, he said he has the messages, and I said, “I can’t handle looking at those.” He took his life unexpectedly a few years back. The last recorded messages I have with him on Discord are in 2017. We used to Skype call with all of our friends. Talked off and on. We may have never met, but I loved him, and I care about him. And it hurt, and it still does. I go on his page to watch it sometimes.

With all these things being accumulated and said, I’ve lost track of how much time it’s been. Hope and Madness, all of this, the ramblings of a sinner like me. It’s in hope that somehow it’ll help somebody. I don’t want to be rich. I don’t want to be remembered. Just want Christ to be remembered. There’s almost a beckoning when I think of my friends. Those classmates and other friends that have passed. The scene from Attack on Titan once again comes to mind. About all the old, fallen comrades. As if they’re telling me, “You need to keep going. You have to go pushing. Keep living. Keep living.”

My prayer is that I can wake up tomorrow and see the brethren. I must thank my job for being so forbearing with my condition and my health, especially with MS, and the flare-ups I’ve had. I haven’t been able to work in the past week. I do miss seeing my coworkers. I haven’t really had time to just… Not that I haven’t had the time. I just haven’t really done it officially. Just to really sit down with them and just tell them these things, things of my soul. How I cherish them very much. I just wish they could have seen the better of me when I was working more before the symptoms got worse. I just feel like a failure sometimes. Maybe I am. I don’t know anymore.

With that being said, if you don’t know who Christ is, 2,000 years ago God the Father sent him, his son, Jesus Christ, to die on behalf of sinful men like me and you. So that you don’t have to suffer the consequences of sin, namely, the lake of fire and eternity in hell without God and his love and kind presence. Hell was designed for the devil and his angels, not humans, like it says in Matthew. It’s a real place, but heaven is real as well. It’s not only about just missing hell but also about having communion with the true living God, not the idols of this present age. They don’t satisfy. You know it. I know it. If you really look within, whether you’re religious or not, you have to look around and clearly see there’s something wrong with this world. Things are not right. The present reality. The answer is sin. It’s because of sin. This fallen world. But if you confess your sins, repent of your sins, and call upon the Lord, He will save you. But you must turn your back; you must forsake your old life. You will suffer. Being a Christian is the hardest thing you’ll do in your life. But you will gain your soul.

So. I fear that I paint God in the wrong picture as this torturing Father God. That’s not biblical. But my own cursed mind. I can only ask for mercy and that I don’t bring reproach on his name. But I want this to be an account of what so many saints of God go through. Not only that, but also those who deal with moral OCD. It’s a real condition. Madness. Mental illness, severely. The hope is Christ in the madness. He won’t always heal you. Won’t fix it. But you’ll be given hope. Medication, therapy, and things that I do not say are wrong. But if that’s all you’re seeking, without the eternal, it’s pointless. It won’t save your soul. There could be a sense of help in this life. But it won’t help the root cause, namely, sin. It won’t.

So with these things said… Jesus loves you. He died for you. He wants you in heaven with him. He died for sinful men. It’s an astonishing truth. Praise God for salvation. I know I can say hard things, and the messages—the way I speak. It’s not to speak condemnation over anybody. Just getting there, bro. It’s really not. I just want people to know the truth. My prayer is that I stay out of sin. I keep my sanity and my mind and well-being. Only the Holy Ghost can intercede on my behalf for the things I can’t utter. I don’t even understand myself. I want to live. I want to die. Ultimately, I want all of humanity in heaven with the true and living God. Amen.

---