My Rock Bottom

In yet another Fever Pitch-esque moment, the Arsenal plunged to a highly frustrating (for the Arsene Wenger, the team and Gooners all around) 1-0 defeat to the Hammers.

Not taking anything away from West Ham, who took their chance when they had it, MY team was off-colour and missed what chances that came their away. Of course, some will raise the point about the so-clear-cut-a-blind-man-would-have-given-it penalty but that’s football. Sometimes, fortune smiles on you and, at other times, she knees you in the groin.

As soon as the final whistle sounded, i shot up from my slumped position on the couch and watched the post-match proceedings for a few moments. Cesc Fabregas was shrugging off the advances of Marlon-no-talent-Harewood, who oddly could not seem to keep his hands off young Cesc; the camera then zoomed in on a disconsolate William Gallas, standing with his hands on his hips, his head hung low and staring into green oblivion.

Could any two images portray more perfectly the fuming mix of emotions within me now?

i think not.

And in a not-unrelated point, thus the reference to Fever Pitch, if you’ve been wondering (as if you really had nothing better to do…) why my posts have been infrequent of late, then wonder no longer.

All is not right with my walk with the Lord. In fact, it’s been more hide and seek, tantrum-throwing, outright disobedience, abject faithlessness and potent sink-to-your-knees despair than it has been a walk.

And whenever i’m in such a downward spiral, then my ability to write, this based on the assumption that i have said ability, is, to put it in an understated and succint manner, kaput.

Yes.

Kaput.

And till things begin to get better, and by that i mean getting off my decrepit and sorry arse then putting one foot in front of the other, i’m sad to say that the forecast for future attempts at the drivel i usually put out does not look too good. Not that too many of you who actually stumble upon this briar patch of literary accomplishment would actually mind too much.

“Freedom!”

“We are saved!”

Yes, i can hear the triumphant cries sounding in your minds.

For a time, at least, maybe a day, maybe two, maybe a week or none at all, the incisive, soul-stirring, epiphany-inducing, heart-pumping writing you are all so used to will be on hiatus, or at the very least, be produced in the measly dribs and drabs it has been coming forth in the past month.

Till then.

Many are the sorrows of the wicked,
but steadfast love surrounds the one who trusts in the LORD. 
(Psalm 32:10)

Help me to trust in You utterly, Father, and to put no confidence in the flesh or in the things of this world.

i am nothing.

You are everything.

Transform my heart, my soul, my mind, and my strength, until You are MY everything.

In the name of Jesus Christ, My Lord and Saviour, i pray.
Amen.