Harsh Lessons

Two and a half years ago I became involved with a guy who wasn't exactly good for me. The short version was that he was into alcohol and pot, hated life, hated himself, and was basically a cynical, atheistic, hypercritical, lazy, cowardly, self-centered human being. But I saw good in him. Lots of it. He was intelligent, had a great sense of humor, and for a few brief instants in the history of the Universe he was a gentle, affectionate guy. He had the potential, the shy desire to connect with SOME source of life and love. To become something more than a meaningless glob of animate organic matter.

We are taught that Faith, Hope, and Love are virtues. To a person like my former beloved, they are the doorways to betrayal, longing, and exploitable vulnerability. If they believe at all, they see God as an incredible cruel figure with a sadistic sense of humor and a callous disregard for us, His "experimental subjects."

Those of us who have come through the harsh lessons of a loving but demanding God have survived to see the bright sides of Faith, Hope, and Love. But none of us have escaped their darker sides. None of us can deny that we have been tempted to give up and surrender to the despair and self-imposed isolation known as Hell. I have not been spared the sweating agony (the only way to learn). I can not claim not to understand. I can not hate. I must forgive. It is not a command that Christ gave us. It is a bare statement of necessity.

We do not fail because we falter. Our weakness, our stupid pride and stubborn ignorance, our refusal to accept what is freely given and sorely needed, our selfish futile ambitions--are all vital to what we are becoming. Just a little grit for the polishing. So grunt and sweat and howl with frustration. Scream and sob because it hurts so much. It is not beautiful, but you are BECOMING.

I became so much because of what happened. I learned that it takes a hell of a lot to beat me into the ground--and I only found that out because I WAS beaten into the ground. And then I learned that I can pick myself back up and put myself back together better than before. Wiser by a few lessons. Stronger. Some things had come into focus.

These things can not be taught, only learned. They are buried deep in the mazes of your mind, and only you can embark on the bloody quest to find them. The quest will exalt you. For the glory of God? The glory of God will fill you because you will be empty of anything else. When you are in the pit of your personal Hell, you will discover angel's wings. Don't think that the world is the shiny-happy of the childlike cultists and charismatics. This process is repeated over and over, quite probably down a long, long cycle of lives.

A karate metaphor: When you are given your white belt, you are a beginner, full of potential. But when you test for yellow, are you any less a beginner? Do you have any less of a distance to travel? And when you are wrapped in your black belt, do you yet see an end to your striving? I saw a student in our dojo test for brown. She almost passed out. I think she did throw up. For an hour she endured whatever our sensei and sempais asked of her. Sensei gave her the folded brown belt, and then he asked her "Are you ready to do it again?" And she bowed and said, "Yes sir." This ritual celebrating indominable spirit describes exactly what God asks of us. Like Sensei, God allows us to bow out for a drink of water when we can go no further. And like Sensei, God would not demand any more--or less--than his student could give. The only failure is giving up.

What did I learn? I was betrayed. I learned faith by overcoming it. I was lied to. I learned to face the truth and to cherish it. I was criticized. I learned to see myself clearly, to accept what I am, and to grow from there. I was demeaned. I learned what I truly value. I failed. I learned to forgive myself and go on.

God does not sit down with us and teach us virtue. He uses the challenges of our lives. That's not saying the challenges won't come if we don't ask for them. It just means that if you ask, you don't get to take the easy way out. You always have the choice to make your life a learning experience. I advise that you do it. Don't waste your time. Don't waste all that suffering--make it an artwork wrought in your own flesh and soul.

June 8, 1998


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