The Plan

Lesson: Learning to take unwanted advice when people refuse to change

God, this is yet another prayer. People don’t listen, so I’m talking to you. I know my words will come up short because I really feel I have nothing left.

God, I’m tired. I feel helpless. When you told me I need people, you didn’t tell me that I wouldn’t be able to find a single person willing to actually be that person–willing to care, willing to sacrifice because they have concern for my general wellbeing.

God, I hate everything. I hate my life, I hate my job, I hate working with people who don’t care about me — people who think they care but aren’t willing to open their eyes to the reality that everything they do or don’t do adds to my paralysis. I’m heavily medicated, and some days I make it out of bed by evening; some days I don’t make it out of bed at all.

God, I’ve asked you countless times why you’ve called me here. Not for what purpose have I been called to do the work — that’s clear; why have you called me to such a lonely and abusive life? Suicide crosses my mind every day. You know this. No one else knows because no one else cares. If they don’t see what’s clearly in front of them and what has been spoken in so many ways, then they have chosen not to love. My own “friends” have done nothing to aid me on this journey. My mother, the one person who’s always loved, is sick and cannot have any stress added to her plate. I’m really alone. No matter how unrealistic these “glass-half-full people” are, I am alone.

God, you said it isn’t good for man to be alone. That’s the only part of your creation that made you double back and say, “Yes, my creation is good, BUT….” If it isn’t good, then why am I forced to be here? Why am I forced to be in a place where I can scream as loud as my lungs will allow, “HELP ME!” and not a soul (friends, church members, acquaintances, or anyone else) will give more than a glance and a “Well, that sucks. I’ll pray.” They can help; they choose not to.

God, what if I went through with it? The plan that I’ve thought about for years. Someone today, an acquaintance who contributes more love to my life than those closest to me, told me suicide is not the answer. I believe them, but living and fighting on my own hasn’t produced results either. Turning to those who said they care hasn’t produced results either. 

God, you remember the plan. You remember the vision. It would take at least a few days for anyone to find my dead body because that’s how detached all these weightless relationships really are from me. I’ve tried to connect. But I’ve also spent days locked in my room with no food or engagement with the outside world, and I heard nothing from anyone (no one I live with, no one I work with, no one I’ve lovingly reached out to or advised, no one). Next to the body, they would find multiple letters addressed to everyone who “cares” enough to gasp at the news and allow their eyes to drop with their hearts. Each personally addressed letter would clarify that contrary to what everyone in society is saying to make you feel better, this IS your fault. If you haven’t asked yourself, How can I love Christian like I love myself (Mark 12:31) and consider him more significant than myself (Philippians 2:3)? and followed through with some highly adjusted action, then it is your fault. If you listened to my cry, read my words, or heard my plea in any way and did not change, it is your fault. 

God, despite every prayer, nothing has changed. Despite all my work, nothing has changed. Despite me seeing the flaws in myself and creating platforms of honesty and vulnerability to combat my own pride, nothing has changed. Those who “love me” have either said nothing or they have told me to quit if I wish. Maybe I will. Maybe those words will be deeper than they think…until they hear the news.