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One of the most striking things that I have experienced amidst the loss of God is the total depravity of my existence.

Nothing fills me with joy like it used to. Nothing makes me tick like it used to. Nothing gets me angry like it used to. Nothing seems to get past the layer of ambivalence I have constructed as a result of trying to grapple with the meaning of being.

Without God, without a purpose, I am nothing. There is no sense in deducing that I am something, and that something is what counts because ultimately, even if I achieve some sort of (in)fame in my time on this earth, thousands of years down the line I will be forgotten. It is simply inevitable. I will have come from nothing, and I will return to nothing.

If I have not God, then I have no purpose. Yet when I knew God, I had a sense of purpose. Things upset me. Things hurt me. Things enraged me. Things excited me. Things drove me.

I want that back.

It’s not just a case of meaning, though. I cannot do anything about it. I am utterly powerless. It is the great irony of the doctrine of grace that should I accept that it is not something to be earned or attained, then I can do nothing to be certain of its attainment. I am totally at the mercy of the divine for my relationship with Him and for the consequences (if indeed there are any) of my choices on Earth and the destination (if any, and if there is a choice) of my soul thereafter.

I am totally unable to control those things.

It is my prayer in light of this that I will soon find God (or God will reveal Himself to me) so that I can be confident (however shakily) in my relationship with Him and to find some sense of purpose. Maybe then I will question less and journey more. I do feel like I have wrestled long enough, now.

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