Pressing ever so hard against this diminishing hope of gaining acceptance and approval, I convinced myself that this purpose was unattainable and my hopes and dreams shatter in the many tears I cry! I arrived at the point in my life where this emptiness and brokenness actually becomes my symbolic birthright represented by my broken leg. I would struggle to fully walk in this life. It’s no wonder I developed an unquenchable appetite for applause, wealth, and power from any source in an attempt to compensate for the loss, to fill this void.

With my broken leg, I would limp through life.

This blurred reality defined my focus outwardly, a public pursuit which left my inner world empty. Behind this intense quest for power was a deep desire for love. As I soon learned, my heart was lifeless, without a beat, and my soul was sick.

I slipped slowly into a shrouded pit as the sorrows and hurt of the scarring wounds from within tore me down. Listening to the faint voices masquerading through the mist and haze of discouragement as the answer to these chains that have entangled me, I slowly leave behind the will to hold on and let go. The core issue we all face is when the self becomes our god and we worship it. When the self is our god, we strive to make all of life revolve around it, and with a consuming zeal, we seek to satisfy empty vanity.

I finally came to the end of myself.

So hurt and wounded, I worshiped at the altar of pride, began living this life for only myself, and walked blindly down this wide path, foolishly reaching out for the things that kept destroying me. Envying the lives and ambitions of others and swimming in the seas of sensuality that fueled this selfishness, I somehow believed that they would all have what I needed! It was cold within this dark reality as the wind blew intensely against my face, stumbling through the shadow over and over. It’s not supposed to be this way.

In Proverbs 13, verse 12a, the writer tells us “hope deferred makes the heart sick.” I had arrived at a place in my life where life became discouraging and hopeless. I had lost all hope, and it made me sick. Being at this place is a scary proposition, and it brings you to the edge of despair.

I ran so far from home desperately looking for a hope made of stone.

Running from these memories, yearning to be held, is the cry of the son.

We need to remember that every step away from the Lord is a step in the wrong direction. When we are hurting or have failed, that is not the time to run away from the Lord. That is the time we need to run to Him!