I find myself increasingly drawn to those with "stories". Pain. Hardship. Suffering. Tragedy. I find myself aching for someone to share my stories with. I continue to surround myself with people who have known Jesus since they were three years old and have seemingly never strayed since. Although I am well aware the Lord has done a mighty work in their lives..I long to meet the.....ex druggies, ex alcoholics, non virgins, ex cutters, ex psych ward patients... whom have been redeemed by Christ..... Nowhere are they to be found. I realize they do exist...somewhere. But in the meantime, here I am, broken and alone... I realize how my past has inevitably led me to where I am today and how Christ has completely healed me and delivered me from my past desires/urges/addictions. However, it is slightly disconcerting when I feel as though I live in a sheltered world... Christians that exude the aura that they lead virtually perfect lives. I know this is not the reality...but how come so often it feels like it is?
i feel like the world is a piece of fiction...a library of fabricated paperback novels.
your words echo deep within my heart penetrating the cavernous weak walls. the frail trace of support beams holding up my tattered heart is vanishing.
i beg you to rid all traces of your deep rooted artificicality...
entry from my journal april 2, 2007
....I remember thinking that I was somehow more brave than the rest of them. In my twisted state of mind, I was stronger, more tenacious because I could do what so many found repulsing. I wander aimlessly in a foreign land in which I do not speak their language, I do not know their land, I am virtually foreign and unknown even to myself....