Falling up. (Forward)

I began writing the outline for "Falling up" at about the time I was waiting for the final edit of "Addicted to Faith" to be completed. At one point I was going to incorporate "Falling" into the yet to be published "Addicted", but decided that "Falling up", a book about prayer deserved a platform of it's own. Now that the platform as changed medium from paper to electronic I have found it necessary to re-do the original outline. Starting here.
Typically I would not write the Forward until the book was complete, but I am compelled by circumstances to alter that plan. I want to still begin a book on prayer by writing about prayer, and I will. I think it is important for the reader to understand my thoughts on praying, for instance as to why I consider most prayer a "conversation with God". So as of this moment my plan (which I am sure will turn out to be more fluid than anticipated) is to commit Chapter 1 to that explanation. As for now I want to write how I feel.

I am dying inside. I have heard others say that, but until this week I never knew how they felt. It is as if a virus has taken up residence inside my body. When my father died, when my sister died, and even all the years spent dealing with her addiction, I have never felt the way I do right now. The molecules of this virus are comprised of thousands of razor sharp edges; cutting away at my very soul. Each moment they demand attention by cruelly reminding me of their presence. I know when the outbreak of this virus took place. I know the cause-the Known and the Unknown.
I know she is gone. I know she left because I was not the husband she deserved. I know I did things that were wrong. I know I said things that cannot be unsaid. I know that if I did not love her this pain would not be here.
But I think it is the Unknown that provides this virus with the ability to cause such intense agony. I don't know where she is. I don't know who she is with. I don't know if she is okay. Who will she call if there is a problem with the car? I don't know if she is coming back. I don't know if she has any love left for me at all.

The pain began Thursday when she confirmed by text-message that she was leaving. My suspicions that she was planning something began long before that, but I ignored those feelings. Each hour the pain has increased. I thought about crying in my beer but I don't drink. (How I miss that habit at this moment!). Instead of beer, I cried to my Lord. I have prayed more in the past few days than I have in a long time. Only to be greeted by complete silence. Until this morning.

As the Lord has done so many times in the past he answered my prayers through the words of another. This morning at Sunday School we were finishing an enlightening study of Mark's Gospel. John Park is our teacher and paused for just a moment when considering Mary Magdalene. Mark's Gospel teaches us that Jesus first appeared to Mary after the resurrection. "Why Mary Magdalene?" the teacher asked. I am sure that the remainder of today's lesson and the subsequent sermon by Pastor Les were as always filled with words of wisdom, but I didn't hear them. John's question about Mary consumed me all morning at church and on the long drive home. I felt that God was responding to my prayer, that He was providing direction as only He can.

I went back to Luke's gospel where he writes of Mary of Magdala. We are told that Jesus cast seven demons from her, evil spirits and infirmities. That after doing so Mary traveled with Christ and His disciples and "...provided for Him from their substance."
Mary Magdalene is named in the Gospels more than any other female disciple. Was it because of her radical transformation from a demon-possessed woman to a follower of Christ? Was it because the Gospel writers loved her as much as Christ did? I don't think so, we see them dismiss her claims of having seen the Risen Christ without hesitation. I am not a bible scholar and cannot venture any more than a guess as to why this woman who suffered in life was so loved by our Lord that she earned a prominent place in history. But I do believe this; the words written in the Bible are for us. They are for us to learn from, to grow from and to receive peace from.

Christ first loved her. He loved her with all of her infirmities, all our her addictions. He forgave her and accepted her. He loved her so much and knew her so well that He chose to first appear to her because she would believe.


God has spent my lifetime telling me to be like Jesus, to follow His teachings, to love as He did. And although I am constantly aware of His guidance, I seldom follow his divine advice. In the story of Mary Magdalene I see an unconditional love. I see forgiveness, and I see a trust that can only be rooted in true, uncompromising adoration. I can see my wife and I can see where I should be.

But Father the pain keeps me from being like you. You saw Mary through loving eyes, no longer lingering on the evils of the past. You trusted her with your life, death and resurrection, she was there for all of them. I cannot find trust. The pain of loss is easily replaced with pain of memories. Please make them both stop.

It is Sunday afternoon with just of hint of fall in the air. Football is on the television. I have dreamed in the past of an empty house on a day just like this, kicked back in the easy chair, watching football, snoozing at halftime and engorging myself on hoagie. The empty house is the only reality, and it hurts.