It was a very first-half-of-the-psalm-David type prayer.
To summarize the very personal and complex situation, in that moment I had a very acute awareness of my own mannish depravity, and because of that a doubt had developed in my mind that I did not own the freedom from sin that Christ won for me. This was a deeply troubling thought. It went against all I knew to be true, but in that moment I could not comprehend why God, after all my pleading and struggling, could just let me fail so miserably time and time again.
In this moment I was a small child curled up in a ball, crying and begging for my Father to just make it all go away.
This feeling I was having was most akin to Peter sinking into the lake. I had begun to doubt God's power in my life and I was descending rapidly. I felt sick of treading water, too weak to walk, and condemned to drown.
Of course, I had prayed that day leading up to all this to meet me in my brokenness. I knew I wasn't going to get myself out of this. So of course the prayer room wasn't empty that night; a loving brother was there to minister to me.
There was a frightening moment when this brother was praying for me when I could not feel the presence of God. The air around me seemed to get colder. My heart just felt a dull pain, like an empty stomach. For a few minutes this lingered, and it was one of the most terrifying moments of my life to experience the feeling of myself separated from God. I know in retrospect He never left me, but that's just what it felt like. It felt like hell.
At this point I knew what true depravity meant; what true despair felt like. Earlier I had equated despair to failure in the seemingly insurmountable task of being perfect as my heavenly Father is perfect, but true despair is being separated from God. Separation has nothing to do with the progression of the heart but the connectivity of the heart. Naturally God tugs us in one direction or the other, but that only happens when He has a tight hold of our hand. At times it may seem like we've just been holding on to Jesus' hand as we tread water for years, but it's that embrace that matters infinitely more than whether or not we are walking on water.
After that prayer I felt normal again, which by comparison felt spectacular in that moment. I am still not content with where I am on this journey, but i will continue to find joy in God's presence no matter what. On top of that, I have a greater understanding of the other side of salvation. After feeling that hellish absence of God, my desire to save people from that has been strengthened considerably.
There are far too many who are deep in despair and I cannot stand by idly knowing what that is like.
Daniel
