True Strength by Kevin Sorbo

Author:Kevin Sorbo [Sorbo, Kevin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
Publisher: Da Capo Press
Published: 2011-09-15T14:00:00+00:00

One of the most difficult lessons I learned from my illness was that resting is actually something one does. I was forced to spend countless hours on the couch, doing “nothing.” I thought about all my time spent rushing, sometimes not even knowing where, understanding only that I would know it when I got there. I wondered about where my hurrying had gotten me: sitting on a couch, waiting for healing. I had been the protagonist of my entire life, the dreamer of dreams. Now, my dream was simply survival, and the hero . . . well, it wasn’t the queasy guy on the couch.

My meditation carried me to God’s feet. This arrival wasn’t so much a choice as a result of my mind walking a path that always led me to something greater than me. While I was growing up, Pastor Nordling shouted down hellfire and eternal flames of misery on us sinners every Sunday. He was a scary guy for a little kid, but I recognized manipulation when I saw it. Rather than being frightened into submission, I rejected his teachings, and I rejected him.

Even as a young boy I was able to differentiate between the church and the God who founded it. I was young, opinionated, and logical. I remember asking my mom when I was around twelve years old if God was really that mad at us—because I didn’t think so. If God could be so evil, why serve Him? He gave us free will. That is a formula for both good and bad things to happen. I thought that, if anything, God was probably sad a lot of the time—sad for the destructive choices so many of His children make. I regarded our pastor as a messenger who had somehow gotten his message confused. I trusted in a loving, forgiving God. I knew God had tried to warn me about this head thing. I blamed myself for failing to understand, failing to react in time.

Before my illness I was fully preoccupied with the material side of life. Moving at the speed of light, I ignored the spiritual side, the unseen. God created this world, but I was determined to live in it to the fullest, to get the most out of it. I figured He would want that. I believed the saying about not going gently into that good night but instead sliding into your grave sideways, screaming, “Wow! What a ride!”

So much for that plan. Lying on the couch with nothing but spare time, I conversed with God and told Him my problems. I asked His forgiveness—for my stupidity, for not listening, for my stubbornness, even for my wasted anger at people. I had worked so hard to get where I was and yet I still was not satisfied. Before this I always wanted more. Now, I just wanted different. I begged Him for some understanding.

I thanked Him for not letting the strokes kill me and for giving me the chance to still be a father.

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