Oblivion or Life?

Small rivulets of sweat slowly make their way down the side of his face. His tongue licks his lips, tasting the saltiness. Eyes, bloodshot from days of drinking, struggle to focus as hands that had once been steady cling to the arms of his chair. Across the room the object of his torment calls to him, offering relief, comfort, and even an odd sense of security. Is that the power the bottle holds over him–the ability to soothe away all the hurts, failures, and pain of the past? Or is it the relief of oblivion; the safety of being unreachable? When the numbing effect of the bottle takes over, no one can hurt him. The realization that he has taken the easy way out slaps him in the face. He is a coward, running from life. People who wanted to help him, and would have if given the chance, have long since gone their way. All he has left now is the solace of temporary relief. How he longs for oblivion, to hide, to feel secure and safe.

Someone else struggles to face the pain of the past, the hurt and rejection that destroyed her sense of worth. Instead of turning to a numbing substance like alcohol, she erected walls, thick walls, impenetrable walls that prevented anyone from ever hurting her again. But, life held very little meaning and oh how she longed for the laughter and freedom of her childhood. As the desire intensified, she began to wonder if it was worth the risk. Maybe it was time to bury the past. Just maybe. . . .

Gingerly she takes a step forward and gropes for something to hold on to. She is exposed, raw and bare for all to see. Unsure of what to do next, she wonders if this was such a good idea after all. Anonymity had its benefits. The wall had offered a sense of security and safety matched only by obscurity.

No one really knew her; no one understood who she was, where she had been, or what had happened to drive her to seek the solace of the wall. Oh sure, there were those who thought they understood, but they really didn’t. Only those who have experienced deep hurt and pain can understand the need for self preservation, the urge to protect one’s self at all costs. But now, after all those years, somehow the courage to step out from behind the wall enveloped her mind. Maybe she would regret this for the rest of her life, but she would do it. She would no longer hide; no longer would the wall be her safety and security. She would face the past and all of its failures, hurts, disappointments, and pain.

Always the wall is there, calling to her, reminding her that she still has a place she can go when things get too rough. Like the alcoholic who contemplates reaching for the next drink, every day she consciously decides either to walk behind the wall or to remain a player, a viable participant in life. Is it easy? No, for the constant fear of failing to do and be what God wants rides her shoulder. Has she thought about stepping behind the wall, just for a little while? Oh, sure. But God is gracious. His Holy Spirit is always present and His Word is truth. When the wall beckons too loudly, it is to these two that she turns. And Jesus is always there.

What calls to you? Do you look for safety and security in something other than Jesus Christ who loved you enough to die in your stead? Jesus does not offer oblivion, but He does offer life. I choose life.

Grams