It’s been a while since I’ve written, and for this I apologize. Life got crazy and the last task on my list has been this column; however, this season of life has taught me a lot.
In this life we will face many tribulations, and honestly, I have faced many more of those this semester. In this time, I began to lose my faith, ironically after writing on how not to do so. Quite honestly, I am still struggling with the matter.
This article, though, is not for me to complain about my life, but to share something that I believe every person needs to hear.
This last week I encountered God in a conversation that wasn’t even about myself, it was a conversation to help encourage my best friend in the middle of her trials. It hit me in middle of that conversation that we will get lost in this forest called life. There are times that we will wander off the path and lose track of where it is. There are times we won’t even want to go back onto the path, because we think the path we are carving is the best way.
In this forest we believe the voices of its inhabitants. The roots from the trees tie us down with their lies, and shame keeps us from getting up. This is where I have been, believing I am not worthy to go back on the path. In this forest I gave up. I said, “this is where I’ll die,” but the beauty in this story is this simple fact: this forest has a monster.
This monster is not from this forest. He doesn’t reside here, and he doesn’t belong here. In this forest he will chase you, and you think you can get away from him, but you can’t. You can run, and run, and run but you will never out run him. One day you will trip, and when you do he will be there ready to pounce. On that day you will experience the most beautiful yet frightening encounters of your life. Because this forest is our world and this monster is the infinite love of Christ.
You see, we can run as fast and as far as we want. We can try to hide in our shame, our guilt and our pride. We can even spit in the face of Christ and turn away like the prodigal son, yet the loving arms of Christ will always be there.
The beauty of the blood that ran red on Calvary’s Cross is that it can never be undone. The Son came from heaven, not to boast in his perfection but to save us from our imperfection. The free gift of Christ can never be lost, and no man can earn it. We are all deserving of hell. Not a single one of us deserve this perfect gift, for even in our righteousness we are just a filthy mess.
Does this mean we run away and do what we want and deliberately sin? No! By no means does this mean we can do this. Paul says in Galatians 5:13, “For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh […]”
This freedom should not be taken lightly! It is a free gift, a gift no one can obtain by their own merit. I know someone is reading this at this moment and feel as though they are so far in the forest that they can never make it back to the path. But I encourage you with this, no matter how far away you think you are, Christ is always right beside you with arms wide open!
Editor’s note: The expression of faith is a constitutionally protected right, as is freedom of speech and freedom of the press. This press publication has allowed the constitutional rights to be expressed in the opinions section. The Criterion is not declaring itself a Christian publication; it is merely allowing a Christian to voice a message of positivity to other Christians on campus.
The appearance of this column does not exclude other religions. Inclusion of one individual or group does not constitute exclusion of another. If any other faiths would like to similarly express themselves, The Criterion welcomes them to do so. Our publication is, and has always been, the voice of the students.
