I am mildly surprised as I read these words months after writing them. Mildly, I say, because it isn’t a surprise and yet it is, to see how I have been so down in my hopes, feelings and outlook on things. I marvel somewhat because I know this has happened on many occasions while in between those times I have also felt quite to the contrary, as though the Lord were very much with me and that by Him, nothing was impossible. I have particularly felt the latter way, with full conviction immediately after the Lord has manifest Himself to me in some way, unmistakably. But how soon and how able we are to forget and to be in despair!
The whole world rots before my very eyes.
Blind I am not to its corruption;
Men bide their time in vain travail
Or wait until they have to go.
Suffering and death are everywhere,
Sickness, disease and hell;
Selfishness and greed reign over all;
Each man denies another’s rights.
Hell is on the left, Death is on the right;
Fake religions promise emancipation;
Vain hopes carrot asses everywhere;
The wisest are led by them,
bled by them,
and slain by them.
God is here, God is there, God is everywhere;
There is no truth, no mercy, no compassion,
No righteousness nor justice in this earth.
Men are quick to boast their virtue,
To make a show of goodness,
‘Til they have you where they want you
And slit your throat for what you have
If even so very little.
I see the wickedness and the cruelty,
The deception of every man
But though I have power to see all this,
There is nothing I can do;
I am helpless and selfish as other men,
Striving for the truth yet against it all,
Hungering for the right nowhere in sight,
Contributing to its non-existence.
I have sought to be the Lord’s,
To be His and His alone,
To serve Him well and do His will
But I have sought in vain.
There is nothing for me to do;
My searching is at an end.
I can not go on; my hope is gone;
I see no other way.
What then can there be for me?
Where will I go and what shall I do?
I despair and cry and writhe inside;
My God has forsaken me.
He has forsaken me, I do not know why.
I know that in me there is no good
But I thought and hoped that He would come
And save me if He could.
I am worse than I was a while ago,
And worse I get each day.
What can I do and where will I end?
What more am I able to say?
My depressions come more often;
They envelope me as a shroud.
My strength is fainter day by day
To withstand the onslaught of evil.
I have boasted and spoken of my God;
I have acted as though I have known Him.
Some, though few, have sought my words
To guide them on their way.
But now I find I am no guide;
I have no one to guide me.
Silent and subdued within,
After many years, I am at an end.
Promises have come and also gone;
I stand with empty hand;
Nothing to show for all my work
And sacrifice and search.
If I could find someone to end
This miserable life I have led,
I had let him have the privilege
If I knew the other side.
It may well be from pan to fire;
It may be for the worse;
I do not know so I can not go;
I must bear this curse.
Lethbridge, Sept. 1984
To his dying day, my father refused to believe me and could not and would not understand that what had been done in me by God made an irreconcilable difference between him and me not only in terms of thought and way of life but very nature. He lingered for the old Victor he was once the father of, not willing to accept that I had died. He went to his grave lingering at mine. If only he had desired not the grave for the two of us but the resurrection. What man in his right mind would trade the skies and birds for the underground and worms? So, in all sadness, I turned my back on him, but do not regret it, no, not for a moment. You linger at my grave, longing for your son; I’ve left the darkness for the light and what is done is done. The change in me is not perceived by frail human sight And so you think that I am wrong and you are surely right. Reason fails to comprehend the things in my new life; Explanations will not do, they only lead to strife. People, habits, memories call but I’ve traded old for new; I’ve traded all that’s bad and false for all that’s good and true. I’m a stranger in this world whom you have never met; I’ve only kept this outer shell on which your hearts are set. My life is hid in Jesus Christ; believe me you will not; Your hearts are very hard and cold, for truth you have not sought. I’d rather walk on foreign soil than to this evil world be loyal, And trade the rags of dirt and toil for robes magnificent and roya...
The terrible battle to be fought by the seeker of God is against unbelief. One moment, we can be so full of belief, of joy and excitement, assurance and boldness. Then, as little as it takes to slam a door, so quickly and surely have saints of God known the onslaught of unbelief in all its terrible power. Our fight is the fight of faith. Our faith is the victory. Nor is it a faith concocted, a matter of will power. It is rather, a surrender to God, an acceptance of things as they are, an acknowledgment of things as they are and entrusting them entirely out of our control to His. Thus we come out of our valleys, our clouds of darkness and into the light. Wave after wave, Billow after billow, No rest, no peace, except for a time, A short time, a breather so to speak, From the unrelenting pressures which increase. Darkness all around us, Blind alleys at every turn, Clouds obscure the light of day And leave us damp and cold. When will we be free? When will the storm cease? Has it no end? Has it no bounds? Can we go on with our hopes Dashed to pieces at every turn, Like cardboard huts in a hurricane? Is it sin in our lives that causes this state? Is the wrath of God kindled against us? Have we no hope, no reason to expect An end to intermittent turmoil? “There is no peace to the wicked,” the Scriptures say, Yet we have searched and searched ourselves again. And though we know that in our flesh dwells no good thing, We still find ourselves without an answer....
Social and moral issues abound. There is no want of them – ever. And rarely are they settled to the true benefit of all. Debate goes on and on and on. The minds involved grow deeper in darkness until, with all their statistics and evidences, arguments and logic, all sides are as raving mad men, utterly failing to put their finger on the problem, much less finding a solution for it. This writing came quite spontaneously and basically expresses the truth that darkened evil minds must be given the right and the opportunity to suffer the fruits of their thinking. Their consequences will speak far louder than the voices of those who try to spare them their folly. Abort the mark of tragedy; Abort the evidence of pleasure; Abort the stark reminder Of consequence for evil. Rid yourself of nuisance; Rid yourself of cost; Pay no mind but to yourself; For your sake a life is lost. Still the witness, erase the interruption, Forget the past, if you can; Still the conscience For crying against your deeds. Is the conscience in your womb? Rather than removing the turd, Cover it with a mound of manure. Now what? But go and do your will, woman; Exterminate your seed Lest we be overwhelmed With the fruits of your ways, The posterity of your thoughts; Haunted by mammoth mounds, Perishing one and all. Lethbridge, Aug. 19, 1984