To Lose One's Soul
For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul?
Mark 8:36
Who would have thought I would actually get to a point where these words speak so clearly of me. I would never have thought it. I had always thought that this verse was for other people, materialistic people who made deals with the devil. But, ah, who would have thought the devil would come dressed as desperation. Who would have thought that it didn't need a devil to shake my principles. Maybe my principles weren't in the right order, in the first place.
It is an awful feeling, being soulless. I didn't think I'd value my soul so little, that I'd exchange that pool, that vibrant essence, that rainforest of life for the world and all its glamour, its flawed standards, its empty acclaim. Why? Why would I do that? And the exchange comes as an unwritten but cosmically binding transaction that gives you what you want: awards, the respect of your peers, the envy of the people who look to you. But it leaves you empty, nothing more than a shell pretending to be more than what you are, keeping up for appearances sake when behind everything you know how very broken and problematic things are. The praises taste of nothing. And the only thing sustaining me is the love of my family who are suffering because of me, for my sake. They bear my sin, and pay for it because we are family. And I am even more ashamed.
I want my soul back. I want my life back. I want the shell to have something of substance inside, to have something powerful and good and pure and true inside that I may rectify my wrong and cease my loved ones' suffering. I want to be fixed. I want to be whole once more, and not this bucket of holes that cannot hold water or one good thought. I want to live, to love life again, to have once more within me that flourishing, zest-filled, and very much living soul I had lost along the way. But how can one buy back a soul?
O Lord, O Father, will You buy it back for me? Would you consider buying it back, then loaning it to me while I live? And since it would now be Your property, may I loan it from You in exchange for service to Your Kingdom? But then again, I suppose it was never mine to begin with. And my selling my soul was not just a desecration, but an act of theft as well. In which case, I truly am a wretch, and my only hope is that You will be merciful and save me anyway.
Mark 8:36
Who would have thought I would actually get to a point where these words speak so clearly of me. I would never have thought it. I had always thought that this verse was for other people, materialistic people who made deals with the devil. But, ah, who would have thought the devil would come dressed as desperation. Who would have thought that it didn't need a devil to shake my principles. Maybe my principles weren't in the right order, in the first place.
It is an awful feeling, being soulless. I didn't think I'd value my soul so little, that I'd exchange that pool, that vibrant essence, that rainforest of life for the world and all its glamour, its flawed standards, its empty acclaim. Why? Why would I do that? And the exchange comes as an unwritten but cosmically binding transaction that gives you what you want: awards, the respect of your peers, the envy of the people who look to you. But it leaves you empty, nothing more than a shell pretending to be more than what you are, keeping up for appearances sake when behind everything you know how very broken and problematic things are. The praises taste of nothing. And the only thing sustaining me is the love of my family who are suffering because of me, for my sake. They bear my sin, and pay for it because we are family. And I am even more ashamed.
I want my soul back. I want my life back. I want the shell to have something of substance inside, to have something powerful and good and pure and true inside that I may rectify my wrong and cease my loved ones' suffering. I want to be fixed. I want to be whole once more, and not this bucket of holes that cannot hold water or one good thought. I want to live, to love life again, to have once more within me that flourishing, zest-filled, and very much living soul I had lost along the way. But how can one buy back a soul?
O Lord, O Father, will You buy it back for me? Would you consider buying it back, then loaning it to me while I live? And since it would now be Your property, may I loan it from You in exchange for service to Your Kingdom? But then again, I suppose it was never mine to begin with. And my selling my soul was not just a desecration, but an act of theft as well. In which case, I truly am a wretch, and my only hope is that You will be merciful and save me anyway.
