I used to think, “Life is hard!“ I used to dread each trial. I used think, “How will I ever make it through this one?” I have even tried doing things my way. Not God’s way, not the way I was raised, or instructed to go – no, my way was best for me! Sure, I fell down sometimes. Some of those times I could scarcely get back up!
Those were the times I reached the end of me.
At the end of me, is not where I prefer to be. I am a wreck there, looking in a mirror, discovering the image peering back at me, incomplete. I find myself broken in pieces that I am unable to piece back together, assuming I can find all the pieces! At the end of me, I come to a place where I am forced to either admit that I was wrong, or continue to walk a crooked path. At the end of me, I can forgive and seek forgiveness, or eventually kill myself from the inside out with bitterness. At the end of me, I find that I am a fighter! Fighting for or against every thing that will bring me to a state of peace, joy, wholeness. At the end of me, I am already defeated, deciding, where do I go from here?
At the end of me, there are a couple choices to be made: a) I can surrender my all – whatever is left – and allow Christ to pick up the pieces, mend the broken places, and do an overhaul as He restores. Or, b) I can continue to stay as I am. I can wallow in my mess. I can continue to break, maybe get up for a season, and fall further and harder than I had before, all at the end of me.
I have been saddened as of late as I look around and see others not so different from me. You see, I see them approaching the end of themselves. How I wish to warn them, stop them in their tracks: You’re playing a dangerous game! You’re going the wrong way! I know because, I’ve been there. I’ve done that. I tried that. I thought like that too. But once you reach the end of yourself, what are you going to do? It will feel as though you are all alone, having pushed everyone away, but you really are never alone, remember that, you are never alone!
It’s at the end of ourselves that we can reach out for help. It’s at the end of ourselves that we will either look for a change or continue to wallow in the mess we have made. The Prodigal Son, laying with pigs, eating their slop, reached the end of himself. After all that he had been through… It took that particular event for him to come to grips with his current situation. He got up out of his mess and sought a change. In his case, the end of himself meant returning to what had always been – his father’s house.
For me, I have had several significant events that have forced me to reach the end of me. Still, I had to make the decision, get up, return to what I know, allow God to do a work in me, or wallow in my pit of despair. I am so glad I selected the former. Whatever the situation, whatever the case, I pray I never again have to reach the end of me…