The Distant Shore
Figuratively speaking – just a celestial throw from God’s glorious estate, there lies uncharted vestibules of the spiritual universe. To my soul’s delight, it was delivered from that dark void where it had once been lost on our journey to this world.Albeit my soul is now well, it once felt that it would forever be estranged from the heart with which it first boarded my craft. They were to accompany me on my life’s maiden voyage.
Fate would have it that, before we could reach the painted lining – silver to designate where God would have angels and meet humankind halfway – a storm of destiny would nearly capsize us. Somehow, my heart braved with me the breaking waves that crashed against my bow with much ferocity. My earthbound vessel still made it to port but, when we arrived, I discovered that one in my entourage had gone missing. We would have turned back in search of it, if only there had been a means to do so and with any indication of its whereabouts. We could only have guessed where, in all the chaos and confusion, the high seas had swept away my soul.
It is only natural that, in time, my memory of such an event and of the casualty, which I now hold so dear, would fade. God, however, would not abandon a rescue effort. In time, He would reunite my heart with its traveling companion.
My soul cried out from a distant shore where, since the birth of my flesh, it had been marooned. Somewhere between the Heavens and where Heavenly shadows fall, there is a place where, for many seasons, my soul did linger.
I am not referring to the Apocryphal Purgatory or a mythological otherworld. The noumenal expanse of my illustration is my own concoction to best serve my purpose here. Indeed, there is a state of being like no other that I would struggle to describe without beginning with such a rendering of my imagination. To that plane beyond the veil, God whisked me far from the reality that I knew as a child.
God surely saw that I was not whole in spirit. He knew that my heart would perish, and I with it, if my soul was to remain so lost.
Although my soul could not really be separate from me until death, I have wondered if, throughout my early childhood, I would have felt different . . . had we actually been so far removed from one another. I just felt so out of place and alone under circumstances that, by my 9th year, had crushed my sense of belonging. Night after night, before bedtime, I could barely think of one reason to wake up the next morning, until the eve of a most dreaded school day, when my faint desire to live fizzled out like the flickering candle that would surely succumb to a raging hurricane.
I was “dead on arrival” at the hospital; understand that, on this point, I am not writing figuratively! I was revived after 5-minutes but remained unconscious and vitally unstable for 2-days until God, with a spark of His perfect peace, answered the prayers of saints by kindling a new flame in my soul that would not be snuffed out by the pestilent winds of personal apocalypse. This fire in me has since burned ever so brightly.
* Note that this introduction is to a series that expands on my first book, The Hope in Personal Apocalypse. Follow my blog to not miss any of it.
My purpose for this blog, my first book, and all else is purely for the means to further share the hope of my life that, in faith, has sustained me. My utmost desire is to do the good works that God would have us all do to lift one another up.