Deep calls unto deep

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Waruguru was just ‘some girl from my church‘ for a very long time. We went to the same church but had never had a conversation lasting more than 2 minutes. In 2004 when she was relocating to the States, she held a party for the church youth and I passed by to show face. I asked her for her e-mail address and promised to write to her within 2 days. That started a friendship that I really treasure. 

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My dad and I had a routine. We would wake up, have breakfast, get our Bibles out n wait for Jon Courson at 1015 every morning. This was in 2003-2004. It was our ‘thing.’ Then we would learn the bible together, and at 11am he would leave for work. It was our routine for a year.

One of the lessons I remember clearly is of Jon Courson’s loss. He said he had met a girl when he was in high school at a summer bible camp. He had loved her, she had loved him. They had kept in touch after camp for like 6 months. Suddenly her letters stopped coming, he wrote and wrote and eventually gave up.

The next year at summer camp he couldn’t wait to find out what had happened. He was stupefied to say the least. He looked for her after registering without any luck. He found her friend and asked if she had come for camp that year. Her friend, shocked told him she had passed away the winter before. Cancer, he was told. He narrated the pain he felt and how he had run to the chapel and cried before God. He taught us that day, that God had been preparing him for the future. That was actually the title of the message for day. “Pain with a purpose.”

At the time of the teaching he had lost a teenage daughter and a first wife. He said it had hurt, but the pain was familiar as he had experienced it before.

When I think of that message, I think of two things:-

  1. I should have hugged my dad then. Really hard. It would have been weird as hugging really, isn’t something we grew up doing. But knowing what I do today, I should have.
  2. What has the loss I have suffered thus far been preparing me for? Was I prepared before for the passing of my dad? Is it a preparation in and by itself for the future? And I think I hope not.
    If there is anything I want more in this life, it is to never feel that helpless, that empty, that limited ever again.

Doubt and fear, fear and doubt, and a deep, black emptiness surround me sometimes. It is not just the loss of my father, which really isn’t a loss. It is the loss of the ‘protective bubble’ I always thought ‘we’ Christians had over non Christians.

I never thought we could die by the street, knocked down by a car. I never thought we who were “The Called” would have an empty dad seat in the house. It had never crossed my mind, selfish ol’ me. The aftershock renders me immobile to this day. And fear takes over. I have a little headache and I rush to web MD. What is it? Brain cancer?

Anxiety, palpitations, sweaty palms, stuttering, sleepless nights – my new norm. What happened? Did I miss the preparation? Why am I not like David? Why can’t I go take a shower and go to church worship God, and write psalms…?

And it dawns on me. I really thought I knew my God. If I had, I would be strong and do exploits.

Meantime, I am alone. In my apartment, on a Sunday afternoon – shades drawn.

I will find my trust in Him yet again. I cry out to Him like David, “Though you slay me, yet I will trust you…’’ It is a hard truth and I shall endeavor to achieve it before the end of my time…

As of now, “deep calls unto deep.”

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5 responses »

  1. Sorry for the loss of your dad. It’s clichè, but, savor those great memories of the momenslts you shared and allow them to be the light in your deep. HUGS!

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