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King Hezekiah, Part IJul 20 '07 (Updated Mar 08 '09) Write an essay on this topic.
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The Bottom Line Perspective: Protestant Christian. Read all parts in order; otherwise, this may not make sense. Though Hezekiah is briefly discussed, this is not a commentary on Isaiah 38.
INTRODUCTION On 14 June 2007, I became a proud member of Epinions. During the subsequent flurry of book reviews, one editorial continually placed itself foremost in my thoughts. I am a devout Christian and love the Lord with all of my heart. Though this be a controversial matter among churches, I do believe that the gifts of the Holy Spirit as contained within 1 Corinthians 12 are present for believers in the modern church. I hope that readers who disagree do not allow this matter to separate the body of Christ more than it is already. I merely include this brief statement of belief to serve as background. I am continually touched by worship music, but particularly enjoy writing of the things that God has done for me. Hence, the quotation on my profile page. I am, therefore, writing this review in order to thank the Lord for the things that He has done in my life, and to share with others the joy with which I have been blessed during the past three months. THE CRACKED VASE I became a Christian at the age of five, but did not commit all I had to the Lord until the age of fourteen. At that point, I seemed to continually wade in a river of His glory. Some days, I would be immersed in joy so magnificent that it can be expressed to no one. Other days, I felt dry and parched; however, I knew continually that God was with me. "Morning and evening and at noon will I pray, and cry aloud, and He shall hear my voice." (Psalm 55-17). One day in November, however, I felt as if I had been cast into a wilderness, there to be abandoned indefinitely. I had fallen into envy and anger; consequently, I began to heartily dislike myself. I believe that it is through grace that I am saved; however, I could not resist the temptation to ask daily for forgiveness of the same sins. I ultimately became consumed with fear, anguish, and antipathy toward myself. Even reading God's Word provided me little comfort. One day, after reading several chapters in 1 Samuel, I became convinced that I resembled King Saul. Those around me-particularly brothers and sisters in Christ-were little David's. This assumption tormented me until I became quite angry with those around me. Had I only realized that this notion was an unfounded attack, I daresay that I would have fared better throughout these six wilderness months. During this time, I found myself unable to attend church. Although many beautiful Christians invited me to various worship services, I lost hope that the Lord would touch me. Did He even desire to hear my prayers anymore? Others could not see that I was broken, and had no desire to behold this vessel's myriad splinters. Did God feel likewise? I continued for a time in misery that cannot be felt. At one point, I devoted a week to prayer for healing of a heart once mended, but now shattered. Indeed, I was one of God's vessels. Yet, it seemed that a careless hand-not that of the Sculptor-had dashed me to the ground. Skillful sculptors know how to reform their creations; surely, the Great Physician could heal my anguish. BECKETT'S BOG I am hereby going to share a truly un-literary thought: Though I find the philosophies of various Existentialists intriguing, I disagree with them entirely. I find life to be replete with meaning and hold that notions of purposelessness only evoke fear and confusion. In late January, however, I was assigned to read j"Endgame", a highly-acclaimed play by Samuel Beckett. Imagine the following: You sit down in a comfortable armchair with a "nice" book. It being winter, you have started a fire in the fireplace. As you listen to the crackling delight, you sip your homemade hot chocolate and reflect upon the gentle pleasures surrounding you. You then open your book and begin to read about ... DEATH, DESTRUCTION, and DESPONDENCY! This was the frame of mind in which I found myself upon first reading Beckett's improperly designated masterpiece. The play detailed the fearful, desolate lives of four individuals who apparently looked forward to blackest death. Though a sensitive reader, I do not generally allow myself to be terrified by a mere piece of fiction. However, I found myself continually fighting terror when confronted by this bit of absurd literature. Though I prayed continually for freedom from fear, I often went to bed relying only on threads of lingering hope and the remnants of a garment of peace. I LOVE TO SAY YOUR NAME Despite my inner turmoil, I continued to do as I had always done: I read the Bible, I prayed, I sang unto the Lord-even when my voice cracked from weariness and my heart felt as if it were withering. One great passion that never faded entirely was the purchase of worship music. One week in mid-April, I ordered six CD's. Monday, 23 April, found me preparing for a morning literature class while eagerly anticipating the arrival of the aforementioned Christian materials. Yet, I continued to feel desolate throughout the "fascinating" lecture regarding Tolkien's works. When class had ended, my sister and I drove home from the university while listening to Hillsongs' beautiful choruses. That afternoon, I received five pieces of worship material. I quickly enlisted my sister and a friend to assist me in adding songs from the new CD's to my MP3 library, as my screen-reading technology does not cooperate with this. I then settled down to read Defoe's Moll Flanders-a literature requirement that proved rather entertaining. NOTE: Do not attempt to read Defoe's work while worshipping. Listening to God's servants in praise will invariably take precedence over reading-no matter how well-crafted the masterpiece in question. In summary, I spent several delicious hours listening to the new worship material while completing my literature assignment. One two-minute song was particularly touching. "I Love to Say Your Name" is a gentle worship chorus whose lyrics drew me closer to the Lord than I had been in several months. I shall say no more on this matter, as I hope to review the album shortly. (To those who already know what I plan to review, do not reveal my little secret in the Comments section!) Anyway, I went to bed that night with renewed hope. The exquisite voices of humble worshippers had allowed me to see God's love and to feel His mercy. Although I had little idea of what would happen next, I somehow believed that freedom was at hand. Soon, my anguish would surely turn to joy. Part II Part III  |
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