I fell into a hole that the enemy designed. I had been warned about the dangers of the holes on the road I was traveling, but I thought I was smart enough, thought my eyesight was keen enough, to miss the holes.
We can’t miss the holes, they are a part of life.
I sat in that hole, and I waited. I waited to be rescued. Surely someone, some friend, some family member, would come by and lower a ladder. But it didn’t happen.
So, as I sat there, I began to look around me and despair began to build. The hole was dirty, and the sun was going down. The closer I looked, the more things I saw that either frightened or repulsed me. But I couldn’t get out. There was no way out…unless someone came to rescue me. Where were my rescuers?
It did occur to me that I might climb my way out, but to attempt such a thing would be very unpleasant and not easy work. No, I would sit and wait for the rescue team.
As darkness fell, I became more and more afraid. I could not see my surroundings. The less I saw, the more dangers I imagined, and the dangers grew in size and in threat. My fear became my pain.
The skies above me began to rumble and although I could not see them, I knew a downpour was imminent. The rescuers hadn’t come so my survival instinct kicked in and I began to feel around – half in fear and half in hope – looking for protective covering.
My hands touched things that I knew would not be pleasant to look at, but would serve the purpose for protection from the elements, and possibly from the sting of pain by other things in the hole… or perhaps things that might fall from the sky. And so, I began to cover myself in debris…..
Much time passed and no one came to offer the easy way out of the hole. I was scared, but I had also become somewhat numb. The debris that I had gathered to protect myself – the trash – had become my only source of comfort. I did not like it’s smell, it’s texture, or it’s feel, but it was becoming morbidly familiar.
As the hours turned into days, and the days to weeks – to years, I lost the ability to remember much of what life had been like before the hole. I no longer waited to be rescued. I knew no one was coming. No one cared. I was alone. And in my solitude, I kept piling on debris…and the debris began to weigh heavy on my shoulders. I did not like the discomfort, but it was my only protection….
Life is full of pitfalls. No one is immune. We all fall. This little story isn’t about the “holes”, it’s about the things we use as coverings of protection from the dangers associated with the holes in life. It’s about sitting still and waiting to be rescued instead of using our inherent resources to “climb out.” It’s about giving in to fear, either real or imagined. It’s about allowing the darkness to envelop us instead of searching out The Light. It’s about fear, and it’s about complacency. It is about losing focus and giving in to circumstance. It is about life without God as your touchstone.
The debris in our life can consist of anything from alcohol and drugs (self-medicating to mask the pain) to unhealthy relationships, to material possessions. The list goes on and on. Substitutes. False Gods.
Regardless of the circumstance that led you to that hole, or the debris you use as a covering…the way out is always the same. Contrary to popular belief, God doesn’t help those who help themselves, God helps those who ask.
So, quite simply, ask.
And once you ask, let go of the debris and let God be God.