Thursday, April 2, 2015

Nothing Good

I slept poorly. 

A couple reasons for that: 1.  I am very upset at the active hatred for Jesus, and Christians, these days.  It baffles me.  My faith tells me to love my enemies, pray for them, do good to them, etc.  How is that worthy of hate?    Where am I going wrong in praying good things, daily, for the done-me-wrongs?

"I'm done" I told God.  "I get it now.  I used to wish You'd wait another day or two so I can hand out more Bibles, but You're right - the world is going to hell.  My world deserves every drop of wrath You're going to inflict, during the tribulation!  When you're ready to take us, do it.  I'm done asking for another day."  

2.  I had horrible apocalyptic nightmares.  They were just dreadful.  Probably related to the previous paragraph. 

I woke up, horribly depressed.  I spent about half an hour arguing myself into a shower.  I didn't have time for my God Time, but you know I got it before I got online. 

We went to Walmart.  I accidentally got something (a $1 item) without paying for it.  I am going to feel terrible until I make that right. 

I didn't get much.  A USB extender cord (the one on the front of my "box" is dead), some TV dinners, stuff for work - and something I think will help my depression. 

I bought a couple of gorgeous notebooks, nice pens, some index cards, and a box.  My thought: write down encouraging Bible verses, again and again, until they get stuck in my head.  I can use them to combat the bad thoughts I battle. 

It can't hurt. 

I hear they do this with North Korean Christians - they sneak over the border to South Korea and are taught to copy the Bible, again and again, until they have it memorized (key passages at least).  I think that's excellent.  They can't carry a Bible under penalty of death, but they can carry it in their heads. 

I've got to do what I can. 

When we got home I ate, took my medication, and took a nap.  I did not want to get up.  I forced myself anyway. 

I feel like God's letting me know I need to stop hiding in a cave when I'm depressed, I need to get out and do things.  I don't want to, and won't want to, but what's it going to do to my marriage if I'm always curled up hiding in bed? 

Nothing good, that's what. 


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