Are you there God? It’s me, an unworthy child.

“Are you there God? It’s me, an unworthy child.” The words were uttered with equal measures of despair and desperation. 

They were spoken by a man on both knees, hands extended towards the sky, with an open Bible on his bed. The man wondered - both aloud and in his thoughts - why he had willfully gone against his Creator by choosing to sin, again and again, and again. He couldn’t comprehend his weakness and lack of strength. All of the hours in church, all of the time spent studying the word, and all of the prayers had made him think he was past his addiction. But it clung to him like a sickness, destroying his body and soul from the inside. How many times had he been here? How many times had he hit rock bottom, start again, make progress, then fall into sin and temptation? Why wasn’t he able to break free? He knew that one can only be freed from sin by Christ, but he thought that Christ had already freed him. He couldn’t understand. He feared for his salvation, was it still intact? Would he spend eternity in the Lake of Fire? Would he be separated from God forever? The questions appeared in his mind like blows from a seasoned boxer, each one deflating his hope. He felt sick and lost. What he felt reminded him of his life and condition before he had come to know God. The hopelessness, the utter despair, the fear he felt when contemplating his existence and purpose. Outside of God there was no point and he knew that and understood it, so why had he returned to his sin? No matter how hard he tried he always seemed to end up back at square one. 

As he was lost in his thoughts, the man remembered something he had continually been reading and learning about; God loves him and will never leave or forsake him. The thought brought a brief reprieve from his angst, and he felt a flicker of hope for the first time in days. 

“Is it true? Will you always forgive and take back broken, repentant sinners? Do you truly dwell with those who have a contrite heart” he asked with tears streaming down his face. This remembered knowledge spread in him and his mood began to change, not because he was feeling better, but because he remembered that God’s truth is fixed, regardless of how he or anyone else felt. 

Nonetheless, the hope he felt was soon challenged by a pit in his stomach, a tightness in his chest, and an anguish in his mind. “If this hope truly exists, and if God does actually strengthen and forgive his children, why do I keep sinning?” the man asked himself. His flesh was eager to return to sin, to distract from the pain he felt. The man knew, at least in his more sober moments, that sin never offered relief, not really. It only propelled you into separation from God, into a prison guarded by fear and despair. He was moving between the hope he knew he had in God and the eagerness of his flesh to return to depravity. He had to choose. He had to choose whether to feed his sin or feed the hope and love that endures all things. It seems like an easy choice. The man, logical by nature, knew it was the right decision, but logic wasn’t enough, it never was. All of the knowledge he had attained was useless without action and his actions of late had shown he was more concerned with gratifying his sin than following God, even if he knew that following God was more logical. As much as he wanted to be only operating from rationality, he knew that his emotions often got the better of him. Stress, anxiety, worry, fear, laziness, pride, etc. had driven him to things other than prayer. The man chided himself for not running to God and for not trusting in Him enough to handle his problems. “How logical was that?” he rhetorically asked himself.    

What the man knew he did not want to admit, and what he had to admit he did not want to confront. He knew that the reason he was in this situation was that he chose to go against God, he chose to sin, even though he knew it was wrong. Every time he was reminded of that, he felt worse and worse. He understood now what it meant to be dead in sin, to be completely helpless in the face of temptation and the desires of the flesh. No matter how he tried to justify it or rationalize it away, he knew in his soul that this was his fault and that the only reason he could be restored was by the grace and mercy of his Father. He now wept more as he contemplated the greatness of God. How He would not only choose to offer His children salvation but that He would send His Son to die on the cross for sinners, for him. 

“Why would you save me? I am nothing, you are everything.” He accepted that he may never understand, but it didn’t matter whether he fully understood, only whether he chose to put his trust in God or not. “Lean not on your own understanding, but in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths,” he said, almost whispering the Proverb to himself. It wasn’t about him or his strength, Christ had already conquered sin and death, and He was now dwelling inside of His children. The thought brought cheer to the man as he collapsed into his bed. 

When he awoke, the sun had not yet risen. His room had clothes scattered, books were on shelves, his desk, and the floor. The curtains were closed, and the only light coming from his lamp, made the room appear larger than it was. The man remembered the previous night, and while he lamented his sin, he felt an overwhelming sense of gratefulness. No matter how many times he stumbled, if he confessed his sin, God would forgive him, and would never leave nor forsake him.