Life is a breathless sigh sometimes. I admit that I resonate with Solomon: “For with much wisdom is much sorrow; as knowledge increases, grief increases.” (Eccles 1:18). I know the path that I walk is a lonely one, and I understand that I have knowledge but not the power to change a single thing. It’s despairing and as I see my life pass by, I’m just hoping for death’s bittersweet release. I’m 23 years old and I already want to leave this world. There are days when I experience the joy of salvation, mercy, friendship, and worldly goods but none of it can remove the background noise of grief. The joy is like a giant iceberg that attempts to cool my pain, but underneath the burning anguish of my heart is melting the iceberg.
I can’t explain to you in full words just why I feel this way. I’m caught between two worlds: the great and the void. I know enough to realize that fulfilling the American dream is utterly futile. But I also know enough to see through my own brokenness and pride. If I strive for greatness, I puff up my pride. If I strive to be nothing, I feel empty inside. Pride and humility are leeches that endlessly feed off of each other. The world around me is perishing and all I can do is write words on a blog. I’m not satisfied with just being a man; I want to be a great man of God. Someone like the disciples who were empowered by the Spirit. Why? Because that’s what it will take to change the world. Nothing else will matter. My philosophical prowess is powerless against the evil forces of this world.
Instead I’m imprisoned in the mundanity of life. Failure after failure induce distraught within me and desire for greatness seeks to overwhelm my heart with parching thirst. I look at men like Jesus of Suburbia and I realize what a useless patch of dust I am. What memory am I leaving behind on this earth? I’m like a man who sat upon a treasure chest of knowledge only to find himself unable to rescue those being destroyed by their lack of knowledge (Hosea 4:6). Memory of me shall be nothing: I will enter Sheol alone and the joy of my birth will be remembered no more. Would the world be much different if I had never been born? Am I just a raindrop that gets forgotten in the ocean? Will I be the man who helplessly watches the world burn? If so, then I would rather die than live a life that shrivels up into a rotten old man.
I end with this song: