Wednesday, May 1, 2013

A Fool to Self-Rule

Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence? If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me. (Ps 139:7-10)

I'd run as far as I could. After all, I was free to make my own choices. Right?

Nothing held me down, tied me back, or kept me in place. I wasn't obligated to anyone. I owed no one anything. So packing up my stuff, I left, determined to show I knew what I was doing. I didn't need His help.

He wouldn't find me anyway. I mean, how could He be everywhere at once? No one could do that. I'd been put on this earth to live life my way, to make my own choices, have a good time, see the sights. And hang the consequences.

I'll do what the other people do, what the in-crowd, the know-it-alls, the most-populars do to make them what they are, and I'll have the best time, earn my fifteen minutes, and if I die, I'll die on my terms, knowing I'd done exactly what I chose.

No way I'll be like the other half. The pansies. The good people, in their expensive cars and tailored suits, their high heels and Sunday dresses, bowing and scraping before something or someone I can't see, don't even wanna see. Don't need.

I mean, that's all right for them, but frankly, I don't believe in it. I believe in me, in this one moment being all there is, in my decisions being my own, and them taking me where I want to go.

If I get off course, it's all right. At least, it's on my terms.

Yet here I stand at the end of everything and it's awfully dark. But this is what I decided on, so I'll accept it. I-I'm happy with my life, and it's ... it's okay here in this shadowy twilight wrapping all around me. Th-this is where I'm supposed to be.

I ... I can handle it. No ... no need to help me.

What? You ... you're still here? You followed me? But ... but I escaped. We parted ways days ago, months ago, years ago. I ignored You, set You aside, made You of no importance, put distance between us. I made my bed and here I lie, prepared to accept things as they are.

Why would You help me? Why extend Yourself to someone as low as I am, to someone who rejected every instruction, turned a blind eye to all the signs, the blinking, shining, arrows pointing to a different path than the one I'm on.

After all, You're over there, not over here. You're better than me, higher than me, wiser than me. You're for them, those people with crosses around their necks and the Good Book in their hands. 

But I have scars, proof of where I've been, what I've done, how I've lived, and those mark me as the other side. They confirm my choices and judge me for every action I've made, so I can't possibly take Your hand and go back. I have no right to start over.

No right. No power. No privilege. No claim.

Yet maybe ... maybe I was wrong. Maybe Your being here means something. Maybe You followed me, not because of what I was, or where my life was taking me, maybe You followed simply because You knew where I'd end up, that I'd be here, wondering what came after The End.

Maybe in some small way I misjudged to think I could ever go farther, move faster, or travel longer than You. Maybe there is such a thing as a second chance.Maybe if I take Your hand, it'll be all right, and I'll find something over there I need so much more than this independence, self-reliance, self-sufficiency, self-rule.

Maybe there I can sit down, rest a while. Let You make the decisions. Let you lead me where I need to go and be content to follow.

Maybe I will. I think I will. I never escaped anyhow. Did I? I fooled myself to think I did.

*This has been a satirical interpretation of the Scripture and is not in any way reflective of any one person.

We are His portion and
He is our prize,
Drawn to redemption
by the grace in His eyes
If grace is an ocean, we're all sinking
So heaven meets earth like a sloppy wet kiss and my heart turns
violently inside of my chest
I don't have time to maintain these regrets when I think about the way

He loves us.


Suzanne D. Williams  
Suzanne Williams Photography  
Florida, USA 

Suzanne Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for spelling anything, who happens to love photography.

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