God will make a way when there seems to be no way.
I always want things to be in order. Perfectionist and meticulous were some of the words people used to describe me. I had an obsession with order and a compulsion to fix things on my own, even when sometimes they are not really broken.
From sorting my clothes in the closet according to colors to shelving my books based on sizes, I gain a satisfaction when I see that my things are organized. From arranging the tiled icons on the start screen of my Windows phone to sorting the notes in my wallet, I feel most relaxed when I see balance, parallelism, and symmetry. From mapping my itinerary when I go to outdoor adventures, creating a timeline when handling a corporate project, to strategizing when I need to solve a problem, I want to establish solid processes and follow a certain regimen.
Throughout the years, my “organizational skills” have helped me attain a college degree, secure a great job in reputable firms, and overcome challenges on a daily basis. I like to have a plan for which things in my life should operate, and for years I thought I am all adequate and capable to sustain the comfortable life that I dreamed for myself.
Then one day, someone walked into my life and broke my heart. My routine life has been shaken and everything fell out of order. Suddenly, I have lost my ability to put things back in order.
I was confronted by the greatest challenge to fix the damage that involved the weakest part of my being – my damn feelings!
I could not fix myself.
The ensuing episodes of my life were appalling. I found myself following and, at times, leading the pack of walking dead. Depression frequently visited me in broad daylight. Internet pornography set the coldest hours of the night on fire. I became obsessed with my desire for sexual invigoration. I sought physical intimacy in the company of lustful strangers who were as broken as I was. Life no longer made any sense to me. I became grossly interested with how people ended their lives. The last thing I knew, I was contemplating the best way I could die.
I could still remember that night in the bathroom when I was lying prostrate, drained of hope. “I am not finished with you yet,” God softly whispered as I let go of the knife. He asked me to offer my wounds to Him and come to Him for healing.
Only after my anguished heart has called upon God did I fully understood how badly broken I was; how helpless I was to repair myself; how desperate I was for His love and mercy.
My friend, you might be in this same situation I was in two years ago or so. You might think you are broken beyond repair. You might think you are unloved. You might think you are alone. You might think that ending it all would set you free. Please let go of these thoughts for these are all lies.
Summon God now.
Let His wisdom surpass your human understanding. Let his power heal your wounds into scars. Let His love transform your brokenness into wholeness. Let His strength restore your shattered soul. Let His light take you out of the shadow of death.
You will never be the same again.