In a few days, on the 25th June (this coming
Sunday), it will have been six months since my brother died.
I’m not sure how many tenses I mixed up in that sentence,
but you probably understood it.
Just like you probably understand that it takes longer than
six months to get over something like this.
I’m likening my prayer-strike to swimming upstream in a
river. That’s my helpful simile anyway. Not sure if I will find anything at
the source, or if there is even anything there.
I’m probably swimming in the wrong direction anyway.
There have been no answered prayers in these six months, so
if God wanted to set an example for anybody NOT to do what I am doing, then he
has been very thorough. In minutely, painstakingly, deliberately refusing to
answer the prayers which I have already requested of him.
So, as I continue to swim upstream, I am vaguely aware of
the things I am supposed to do and the things I am not supposed to do.
I am supposed, for example, to start praying again and
testify to how wonderful God has been through it all, even at times when I did
not see how very merciful he was being towards me. I am not currently in a
position to offer any such statement, but I would be willing to lie if it
helped the cause. I am not beyond lying. It’s just that if I start praising God
for his patience, mercy and comfort at this point, I don’t feel I would
actually be telling the truth. Things have been, and remain, pretty crap.
What I’m not supposed to do is to leave the faith. I’m not
doing that either, because I still believe. Although, like others, I have the
right to and know where the door is. After all, I’m not getting on with my
intrepid leader. But, if you want me to praise God some more, I can offer this…
He’s sometimes a bit of an arse.
I’ll let him carefully ponder that statement in the midst of
all the other agenda-less worship he receives from so many. Worship for things
He Hasn’t Even Done Yet. Or maybe he would like to bring such deliberately
written statements up on judgment day? All the sober, sombre faces can then shake
their heads in disapproval.
Well, it’s not judgment day yet. But some of us are already
there in our heads…
“Is it true, Nicholas, that on the 22nd June 2023,
you described the Almighty, the Lord God of Hosts, the Holy One of Israel, as
‘a bit of an arse’? Having previously publicly called him ‘a thief’? Answer
truthfully now, sinner, because you are in the company of the righteous.”
“No sir, I wrote it two days earlier on the 20th
June in preparation for the blog. I could have said worse. There were
mitigating circumstances. I previously used the words ‘jewel thief’. I deleted
the whole series of blog entries when the third world war broke out and, by the
way, that was really hard to deal with after the pandemic and everything. I
think…”
“Enough!”
Well, in all honesty, there will probably be no smart
answers from me on that day.
In the meantime, while we all ponder what we may (and may
not) get asked come judgment day, I suggest we continue to try to survive.
And I shall attempt to keep you updated on any significant
findings or events on my river-journey.
Xxxxx dad
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