My world ended. It wasn’t as loud as I thought it would be. I originally thought it was imploding more than exploding, but I have seen the shrapnel injuries since then. Sometimes, I get people who will wave the injuries like flags. I often have wondered if confronted with a life changing event, would I be the type that took it with a sword in hand and charged or one who would stand firm and fight? It turns out, I fainted.
God answers prayers. About 6 years ago, I entered into a new relationship with God. My simple foxhole prayers were not satisfactory and were keeping me away from God rather than drawing closer. I thought I was relating. I thought I was growing in my relationship to the Creator. I went to a church building. I gave to charity. I said the right words. I even prayed, usually to feel better from a hangover, or to win the lottery or something. The only real prayers I had at the time was to help me make my marriage better or let it end. The other was to help me be effective in my job as a doctor and to enjoy it or let it end. In hindsight, you need be careful what you pray for.
My world has ended. The post-apocolypse period has been an eye-opener. After the bomb went off, people scattered. There were two different radiation zones. The first were the people that fell on the ‘forget-you’ side. There were those very close to the blast that immediately rejected any contact with me. They expressed an intense hate, it radiated like radioactive heat from them. My wife was amongst that group. Some of the neighbors, trying to support her, fell in that group. My pastor and his wife. This group condemns me as completely bad. There is no redeeming quality in their eyes. I have no chance. The judgement was quick, final, and lethal.
There was a zone around the first that paused briefly. They asked a question or two, but already had answers in their head. I don’t understand why ask questions unless it was just to make them feel better. One of this circle was my sister. I offered to tell her the story. It took her several days to listen. When she did, she couldn’t hear it and said she didn’t beleive me. Someday, maybe. Another was a dear friend. I see her four kids, gave her a job, our families have camped together. I really thought we were close. She changed doctors before even talking to me. She never asked a question other than, “How could you?”
The next zone were people that originally were neutral but turned away slowly. There are a multitude of these. Some ask questions and make decisions, some just don’t have the guts to confront and request information. After getting swamped by the radioactivity, one of my daughters fell in this group. I havent got to talk to her or see her in a few months. That has been the hardest part of this.
There are those around that zone who desire to be involved. They speak loudly and talk of the horrors of the blast and radiation. The cluck their tongues and wag their heads. They are really uninvolved but speak as though they are pivotal.
The other side of the coin are the antiradiation group. There are those who heard and felt the blast. They speak on the horrific scene honestly. However, they also support unequivocably. They speak the truth and act out the Truth. They forgive as they have been forgiven. You would think this would be people of a church building. It isn’t. It is people of a broader reality, the Church Universal. They are not necessarily doing it because they think they have to, but because it is a natural response for them. My brothers and Dad fall in this group. There are several others as well. This group defines for me what intimacy is really supposed to be. It defines love. This is the group that I can see Namaste. I get a chance to have someone hold a mirror up and point out the God Spark in me. They go on to show me the fire created within me and caution me as to how I am extinguishing the flame.
I am told there will be a group that slowly understand that every story has three sides: yours, mine, and the truth. I have yet to recognize anyone from this group. There has been no attempt at reconciling or discussion yet, but it is early.
The final group is akin to those around the radiation group. They are vehemently in support of me. They talk about the evils of my former life and situation. They will hear no argument as to my mistakes. They are loud, but largely unhelpful. My goal isnt to shun who I was, but rather grow knowing that I blew it up.
God answers prayers. I begged to be relieved of my burdensome life. I asked for a life situation that wanted to change and grow. I asked to be content and happy, even if that meant destruction of the castle I had built. Well, I got that answer. I am not saying God caused bad things to happen, I don’t beleive that. I am saying that God is present with me even when I blow it. He is the inner most person in both zones. He unequivocally is with those hurt by my shrapnel. He is firm in his realistic support of me.
My world ended. As I approached the table, I knew it was over. I knew it would end badly. The soft but accusitory words from the person asking questions did little to relieve my anxiety. I fainted and slid to the floor. At that moment, my life ended and a new one would have to be constructed. I find myself looking back to the structure in ruins with remorse and longing. I know I am not welcome there and it is uninhabitable. I look ahead to nothing and have to catch my breath in anticipation of letting God build a new one with my hands. When I let the anxiety drip away from my fingertips, and the God Spark grow like it is supposed to, I can dream.
It the end of the world as I know it, and I feel fine…