Pretty simple...by logic.
I realized early on that there was 'something' inside me that pushed me to choices I would not otherwise have made, choices that went against stuff like self-preservation.
It became kind of a vital question one day when I was on my knees next to a burning car, helping pull out the driver and waiting for the vehicle to blow up during the process. I didn't know the driver from Adam, and I just happened to be there at the time.
I sure didn't want to be there. But something inside said, "You gotta."
Much later, when I got sick with the thing that's killing me now, I went through the whole pain-and-despair thing, and again, there was this 'person', not me, but definitely Someone, saying "Hold on, and keep doing your best." Again, I sure didn't want to. I wanted to curl up in a foetal poition.
Sounded suspiciously like what I'd heard Christians talking about, so I looked it up.
There was a historical Jesus, verfied by contemporary non-Biblical sources.
He had followers who, after His 'death', caried his message when they knew it would kill them.
Anyone who'd do that was either nuts, or was following something true. There really wasn't a middle ground. And nothing in the New Testament remotely suggests that the Apostles were loony-tunes, out for a spiritual self-immolating ego trip.
The preponerance of evidence was convincing.
Christianity is logically true.
And I guess that begs the question of how I retain faith in the face of terminal cancer.
Again, pretty simple.
I don't have the courage to do this every day, much less the sheer mental and physical strength to cope with something far worse, physically an emotionally, than I have experienced, or imagined.
Breath comes around tumours like rocks, pain stabs lymph nodes in the chest, neck, and groin, and the slightest effort results in a cough that's deep, painful, and turns into dry heaves...and sometimes worse.
It's also exhausting. A minimal daily routine is all I can do, and the prospect of a visit to the lav can be daunting.
There's no meaningful pain relief, no medical care, no nothing. I've fallen through the cracks of the 'care system', but that's another story (and one I'm not interested in telling).
I do a lot to build morale and motivation, but the limits of moto stuff were reached and exceeed long ago.
The strength is given me.
I think St. Paul said somewhere that he could do nothing remotely cool on his own. I get that.
There's one Entity that can do all this, and He goes by the name of God.
I did not come to Christ's door
through a blazing epiphany.
No bright light knocked me to the floor,
nor visions did I see.
I simply came to feel and know
of something inside, not I,
that braced against the blow
when 'I the man' wanted just to die.
The hope that rose had human touch;
He'd walked this road to Calvary.
And He held me in value, such
that He'd bear the pain again, with me.
The road to come holds desperate harms,
but I'm safe-carried in His Mighty Arms.
Music from the U.S Army Field Band, with The Battle Hymn Of The Republic.
Thanks to Carol Ashby, Blessed Are The Pure Of Heart is back on Kindle, and will be available in paperback soon.
Friends are everything. I couldn't have done it.
Below are my recent releases on Kindle -please excuse their presence in the body of the blog. I haven't the energy to get them up as 'buttons' in the sidebar. You can click on the covers to go to the Amazon links.