For Your Name's Sake
Upheld by the Honor of His Name
Have you grown up like me? If yes, then you will find this super relatable. I was contemplating the lyrics of a song by Riley Clemmons called “Broken Prayers,” where she talks about how she was taught to pray. It will do you well to listen to it. The first time I heard the song, I played it on repeat. It is typical of art that connects to your soul. That one artist speaks the language of your soul, that which you could never find words for.
Today, I found another use for the song. I was praying about something that I had been struggling with for the longest time. This sin felt like an anchor tied to my leg. I was sinking each time I fell under its spell. My soul felt like a glass, crushing into a million tiny pieces. The moment of seduction knocked my entire system out. I could not think of anything else except the satisfaction of my lust. It was like an addiction. You crave it until your skin itches. Your throat feels parched, and your limbs lose their agility. Nothing makes sense at this point. It is as though you’re under a spell. The promises you made to yourself no longer hold weight. The dreams and ambitions you spent hours crafting and perfecting fade like the wind. Your mind is solely focused on one goal: the obsession, the madness, the longing. Sigh!
Then your body finally obeys your mind, and you walk the path long abandoned. You ravage through the thickets and shrubberies looking for a feeling that was once familiar. You abandon yourself in the search. The only concern is finding that desire that your soul craves. Even in light of danger, you will not turn back. You’re committed to reaching the goal by any means necessary. The rhythm of your heart fastens, and all your senses become alert. You have become a slave of your own choosing. Sense has eloped with the wind. Nothing is left to hinder you now. You must satisfy that desire or else die. So, you search.
Finally, you meet the goal that once felt like it was too far to achieve, too high to reach. Your heart pounds in ecstasy. You reach out your hand to grab it. Tears are flowing down your face. You can hardly believe the moment has finally reached. You’re unsure how to feel. You wipe your hands a second time not to dirty the goal that you desperately wished to achieve. You take a deep breath, fix your collar, and compose your demeanor. It is time. You reach out slowly to take the fixation of your desires. One muscle after another, you move. Slowly, you’re approaching the goal. You touch it and feel the warmth of its embrace. You think surely this is heaven. It cannot get better than this. But just as you’re getting comfortable, the curtains begin to fall, and the crowd is clapping. The show is over. The heart can no longer be ecstatic. You have to come down from the pedestal. You have to handle the consequences of your decisions, and they’re dire.
The unwelcome visitor leaves before dawn. They leave without a word. When you emerge from your sleep, you’re all alone. Back to the routine you always wanted to escape. Back to the feelings that paralyze your entire being. As you were galavanting with your new friend, Sense and all her companions waited patiently outside the door. She did not want to interrupt your sweet escapades. Her cue to return forces her back to a soul that desires not her companionship. She approaches with caution, lest she’s locked out in the dungeons of the unconscious. Her first task after returning is house cleaning. She has to remind you of what you did the previous night, and she’s a good narrator. She retells the story detail by detail and hands over the task to guilt. You writhe in shame and despair. Guilt reminds you of all the vows you took, even at the expense of your best friend’s life. “I swear I will not see her again else my best friend will die.”
The shame and the guilt have a field day with your heart for a couple of days. Then hope comes in and wipes the slate clean. She uplifts your disheartened spirit and encourages you to start afresh. You remember the mistakes of others and how they got numerous other chances to start afresh. Hope has brought sunshine into the gloomy rooms of your heart. You pull out your journal more resolved than ever before. You write all the things you will do now that you’re a new person. You choose to forgive yourself and move on into the sunset. For the next couple of weeks, you seem to walk the talk. Everything is aligned, and you’re excited by the outcomes of your actions. You feel like a newborn baby. No weights of sin are holding you back. You go ahead to narrate the triumphs of your conquests. The passion in your voice stirs envy and admiration. You passionately encourage others of similar burdens to hold onto hope and trust the process. Morning comes, and evening falls, and life keeps getting better. However, one evening, your old friend comes knocking at the door. You hesitate. The next minute, they’re seated with you, telling you how tough they’ve had it. You sympathize, and that’s the moment you go down the path you promised never to walk again.
After a couple of attempts, nothing works anymore. Hope no longer has the effect she once had on you. Guilt and shame have invited despair into the room. You pull yourself out of the door looking like a bulldozer knocked you over. You sleep on a bed that feels like pebbles. You question everything that once made sense. The past is unbearable. The future is bleak. The present is eternal. You’re stuck in a loop of misery. Your mistakes haunt you like ghosts. You have lost all sense of worth and identity. Nothing seems to uplift you anymore. Not the songs that once played like a rhythm in your head. Not the people who made your lungs itch from laughing. Not the job that made your heart ecstatic. Nothing works any longer. You have tried everything, and everything has failed. So you cower in despair.
In the midst of the chaos happening in your mind, life continues, and so must you. You bury the guilt and shame within. You continue living and laughing as though nothing bothered you. You seek no remorse or anecdotes. You simply continue. You don’t attribute your state to anything anymore. No feeling, no talking, no seeking. Simply being. Day after day, you use the rage to propel the boat that must not stop. You push the pedal and look into the horizon, not thinking much of it. It is simply a thing that exists just like you. You don’t blame or seek answers. You simply freeze a section of your life that numbs the routine. Time does not permit you to tend to the gravity of its weight. Months, years, and decades pass. You did not fall sick as they claimed you would. Phew! What a relief! All this time, you attempted to connect to God. Every once in a while, it worked, but you found yourself back to your old self. By now, it has become a routine. You no longer think too much about it. You have accepted your fate and created room for shame. You don’t wish to defeat her with outputs. You simply sit there eating noodles together, neither talking to the other.
The gradual efforts of connecting to God eventually pile up, and heaven cannot ignore you any longer. One gruesome afternoon, you go through your ritual of prayer and Bible study, thinking nothing much of it. You cry rivers of water as you remember the depth of your depravity. Your heart is no longer bitter at this point. You no longer wonder why such an anchor was tied to you. You simply wonder how far down you will fall before the pressure of the ocean implodes you. You’re helpless. But then you breathe and go to sleep. The next day comes, and something feels different. You seem to have hope. Not like before. This hope is different. It is gradual and graceful. It is not an absolute with no chance of failure. This time, you have no tactics of war. You simply want to lean into someone more powerful. So you scooch over. And He does not flinch. He lets you rest your head on Him for as long as you’re comfortable. He speaks no words or offers consolation. It’s simply the language of the soul speaking now.
The next day, you wake up expecting the dream to be over. But no, it continues.