Up until I started praying for God to reveal himself to me, I was comfortable.  Life wasn’t perfect but I was managing it, dealing with the challenges, overlooking the things that really hurt and making the most of what was left.  Maybe comfortably miserable is a better term.

People saw a guy who had it all together.  They saw a lot of the real me – the sincere, caring compassionate me (as I knew compassion at that time) but they couldn’t see the turmoil inside.  I’ve heard the description of how people are ducks – calm and cool and top of the water and paddling like hell underneath.  Well, that wasn’t an accurate description.  I was calm and cool most of the time on the outside but there was a war going on within me.  Gunfire.  Bombs.  Death.  Destruction.  I blamed it on other people.  I blamed it on choices I had made that led me to the place I was in this world.

I never blamed Satan or stopped to acknowledge how far away I was from God.  I mean, I played the good “Christian” but I wasn’t a Christ-follower.  I wasn’t a disciple.  I didn’t look like Jesus because I didn’t want to get close to Jesus.

Then the wheels came off.  A marriage going downhill fast.  A divorce.  Separation from my children.  Anger.  Sadness.  Irritation.  Rage.  Depression.

The first couple of layers of stuff keeping me from real relationship with God was about to start the painful process of being stripped away.  I never imagined the pain to come.  I never imagined the scars that would be left behind.

Grace and peace.

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