The Art of Breaking (part 2)
This post will probably make much more sense if you start with Part 1. These posts contain a lot of very frank, open, pointed revelation about my life. Feel free to skip them and just move on if all you want is a light read, a bit of inspiration, and/or don't want to be offended.
(( The theme for this post is the song "The Art of Breaking" from the album of the same name, by Thousand Foot Krutch. The snipets of text in the remainder of this post are from that song. ))
I was living in a terrible mental state. But I had a routine for my day to keep my sanity. I would go to class, come back and hide in my dorm. Go for lunch. Come back and hide in the lounge and watch Ren and Stimpy while everyone else was in class. Hide in my room, to do homework. Go for supper. Go to evening classes, labs or meetings, depending on the day of the week. Hide in my room some more until it was time for bed... around 3am.
For three years, this was my life. But God had something better in store for me.
Generally, I left my room unlocked unless I was gone to class. I was in and out so much that locking it each time would have taken me most of the day, in itself. Okay, that's an exaggeration, but you get the idea. I was floor president, only because I volunteered for the position at the beginning at the semester, and no one else did. This meant that I was to handle disputes on the floor, and attend meetings about how to "improve residential life." Mostly, I just sat and nodded. I looked official that way without having to open up to anyone.
As part of that role, I had some items in my room like fliers and such. I left my room open as much as I could for the guys to step in and grab them, should they want to. I trusted them. Most of them I had known for a couple of years. I lived right next to the elevators, so they could swing by and pick them up as they went past to their own rooms.
One evening, I had borrowed a particular video from a guy on the 4th floor. Yes. One of those. But I didn't have a VCR to play it on, so I had a dilemma. I could borrow one from the dorms, or I could rent one from a local video store. My problem was that I had very little cash. And either way, I might have to tell people WHY I was renting it. I decided to borrow one from the residence halls. We could check out a VCR from the front desk if one was available with our student ID, so I put the tape safely on a shelf and hopped an elevator from the 8th floor down to the lobby. And God's grace began. He set a series of events in place to change my life. It was a simple series, but powerful.
As I was checking out the VCR, the girl at the front desk asked, very politely, what I was watching tonight. I smiled. Like I was going to tell her, right? I said I was going to watch "The Hunt for Red October." It was a movie I hadn't yet seen. I still haven't now that I think about it. She told me it was good, but she wouldn't give away the ending.
I strolled back to the elevators, and one opened. Good. It was empty. I didn't need any more questions. I just wanted to get upstairs. "Hold the 'vator!" came a cry from the hallway. I didn't make a move to keep the doors open. Instead, a bicycle tire jammed in the closing doors. The doors opened again quickly and a smiling guy stepped in pushing his 10-speed. "Thanks. Hey! A VCR. What are ya going to watch?"
I couldn't believe the nerve of this guy. I wanted to say "No it's a toaster. But thanks for playing." But I refrained and smiled. I knew the guy from the 9th floor. He was their floor president. "I'm just going to kick back and relax." I fed him a few more lines about movies I didn't own. He smiled as the doors opened on my floor and I couldn't get out of there fast enough. My heart was racing. Five feet. That's how far it was from the elevator to my room. It should have taken me only three seconds to get into my room and lock the door.
I twisted the handle to my door and threw the weight of my body against the door. Nothing. Normally it would pop open, but not this time. It was locked. I bounced off with a wall-vibrating thud and nearly dropped the VCR. I was sure that everyone on the floor heard it. Funny... I didn't remember locking it, but I could have. My nosy next-door neighbor popped his head out of his room upon hearing the crash. He liked to invite himself along for dinner, movies, and anything else. He was as lonely as I was. But I chose to handle it by hibernating. He chose to handle it by attaching to anyone who would hold a conversation with him. Looking back I realize how much he was hurting, but I was so lost in my own life, I didn't see.
"You okay, Jerry? Oh... a VCR." (I was apparently talking to another rocket scientist.) "What are you going to watch? Want me to bring the popcorn over?" That was, in fact, the absolute LAST thing I wanted. Knowing that he abhorred the silly antics of the Three Stooges, I told him that I had rented ten Three Stooges videos for ten dollars at a local store. I was going to watch them back to back and just veg out in preparation for mid-terms. He grimaced and said "that's okay... Let me know if you change your mind and want to watch a movie."
I nodded, found my dorm key on my keyring, and let myself in.
Finally, I was safe in my dorm room. I locked the door to prevent any unscheduled interruptions, and began hooking up the VCR to my small black-and-white TV set. Once that was done, I plopped myself on the bed and reached for my dorm fridge to get a Pepsi. That's when I noticed it. My bible.
I was still a professing Christian, so owning a bible wasn't unusual. I still took it to church, so having it laying out on my desk wasn't unusual. But it was open. THAT was unusual.
I wondered which of the guys was curious about my bible, and what they were curious about. I began reading it where it was open to see if I could gain any clues. "I don't know this man." was the sentence that I saw. It was Peter's denial of Christ in the Jewish courtyard. I read the entire chapter, trying to see what the person may have been looking for, so I could know who it might have been. But the more I read, the more I could feel a voice speaking to me. Not an audible voice, but one so deep in your soul that you can't quiet it if you tried.
I heard God in my heart very clearly in that moment. "I gave you three chances, Jerry."
"When, God?" I spoke aloud in response to the words being etched on my heart.
"Tonight... I gave you three chances to be free and admit what you've done." Images of the people's faces of the past few minutes flew through my mind. I knew what he was talking about.
"What have I done? I'm just watching a movie." I was scared. Did he really know what I was going to do just minutes before? Did he know the contents of that tape? I know. Looking back, that is a silly question. But at the time, that's what I was thinking. I was, as I always had, trying to hide my sin under my clean-chrisitian image. But not God. It was useless. He saw the rotten tomb inside. The clean pristine image outside wasn't fooling him in the slightest. But here I was... me... the small frail dirty human. And I was arguing with all-powerful God... the creator of the Universe and all creation. I was struggling to maintain the porcelean mask I'd held up for years.
"Jerry. I gave you three chances. But you denied me... You denied telling the truth so that you could hide your own lusts. You have to choose. Do you want me, or not? If you claim to be my servant, live it. If not, stop pretending." The weight of those words was too much. I broke down. In the middle of my dorm room, I fell to the floor and just cried. I was broken, inside.
My life, in that one moment, shattered. I cried there on the cement and tile floor simply begging God's forgiveness for hours. By midnight I was exhausted. I had been pouring out everything I'd done and giving all to God... every thing I could think of... every sinful thought that I could dig out. I cried so much that I couldn't cry any more. Shortly into the new day, weak and tired, I peeled myself off the floor and looked around the room.
My body was cold from laying on the cement floor. But I felt something... The room was the same as it was before. The tape was still on the shelf. The bible was on the bed. But, as tired as I was, there was something different. Peace. That was a feeling I hadn't felt in years. In the act of hiding, I had to be on guard 24/7. I couldn't just rest, and experience peace. If I did, I might slip up and show a piece of this grotesque slime that I called my life.
But now, I had peace. It was the most amazing feeling to realize I could, once again, feel emotion. I dismantled the VCR from the TV, and took it back down to the front desk. I took the tape back to the 4th floor. I came back to my room and curled up on my bed and talked to God until I fell asleep.
Did I wake upto a perfect life? No. I woke up to a gray day, and to the realization that I now had "a past" instead of "the present". That, in itself, was very comforting. But then an even better thought occurred to me. I had "a future."
In 1993, at the age of 21, I crawled out of my "slow bleed". I was still a dirty, bloody mess, emotionally. I was still alone, but not lonely. I was still struggling to find myself under all of the crud and scars. But I was free from the downward spiral that I'd placed myself in ever so gently. God began slowly lifting me out.
It was over the next ten years that God had to put me back together. Some people he "fixes" over night. But that wasn't my case. He chose to use time to heal the emotional scars I'd inflicted on myself.
I still struggle with lust. Every male in the US does, at some point. And those that don't are either lying like I did, or are very very blessed, and should praise God for this gift. If I were a betting man, my money would go on the former, though.
I still find it hard to discuss this openly. That's why I'm blogging about it. It's much easier to type than it is to speak.
If you've read part one, you know that I like to draw, but it hasn't always been in the best of senses. Since God confronted me, I still like to draw. In fact, it has been one of the ways I come to know how much God loves me. I pour my heart out to God and he responds, and I journal those thoughts and images onto paper.
Did I make perfect choices after that experience? Not in the slightest. In fact, two months after this event, I made one of the biggest choices of my life. But this post is getting too long as it is. That will have to wait for part 3.
By his stripes, I am healed.
All of the lies, he has removed.
All of the shame, he took for his own.
The images of my past, he took to his grave.
My future rose in him that morning,
when the stone rolled away.
In Him, I will live forever.Copyright 2001, Jerry Hanel
(( The theme for this post is the song "The Art of Breaking" from the album of the same name, by Thousand Foot Krutch. The snipets of text in the remainder of this post are from that song. ))
I was living in a terrible mental state. But I had a routine for my day to keep my sanity. I would go to class, come back and hide in my dorm. Go for lunch. Come back and hide in the lounge and watch Ren and Stimpy while everyone else was in class. Hide in my room, to do homework. Go for supper. Go to evening classes, labs or meetings, depending on the day of the week. Hide in my room some more until it was time for bed... around 3am.
For three years, this was my life. But God had something better in store for me.
And every time I pass you on the street
You won't even turn and look at me
I never would of thought that things could
Go this far but please believe me...
Generally, I left my room unlocked unless I was gone to class. I was in and out so much that locking it each time would have taken me most of the day, in itself. Okay, that's an exaggeration, but you get the idea. I was floor president, only because I volunteered for the position at the beginning at the semester, and no one else did. This meant that I was to handle disputes on the floor, and attend meetings about how to "improve residential life." Mostly, I just sat and nodded. I looked official that way without having to open up to anyone.
As part of that role, I had some items in my room like fliers and such. I left my room open as much as I could for the guys to step in and grab them, should they want to. I trusted them. Most of them I had known for a couple of years. I lived right next to the elevators, so they could swing by and pick them up as they went past to their own rooms.
One evening, I had borrowed a particular video from a guy on the 4th floor. Yes. One of those. But I didn't have a VCR to play it on, so I had a dilemma. I could borrow one from the dorms, or I could rent one from a local video store. My problem was that I had very little cash. And either way, I might have to tell people WHY I was renting it. I decided to borrow one from the residence halls. We could check out a VCR from the front desk if one was available with our student ID, so I put the tape safely on a shelf and hopped an elevator from the 8th floor down to the lobby. And God's grace began. He set a series of events in place to change my life. It was a simple series, but powerful.
I'll pick you up, won't let you fall
I'll build your trust and it won't hurt at all,
Your only drug will let you down,
I'm through now, so take me and blow me away
As I was checking out the VCR, the girl at the front desk asked, very politely, what I was watching tonight. I smiled. Like I was going to tell her, right? I said I was going to watch "The Hunt for Red October." It was a movie I hadn't yet seen. I still haven't now that I think about it. She told me it was good, but she wouldn't give away the ending.
I strolled back to the elevators, and one opened. Good. It was empty. I didn't need any more questions. I just wanted to get upstairs. "Hold the 'vator!" came a cry from the hallway. I didn't make a move to keep the doors open. Instead, a bicycle tire jammed in the closing doors. The doors opened again quickly and a smiling guy stepped in pushing his 10-speed. "Thanks. Hey! A VCR. What are ya going to watch?"
I couldn't believe the nerve of this guy. I wanted to say "No it's a toaster. But thanks for playing." But I refrained and smiled. I knew the guy from the 9th floor. He was their floor president. "I'm just going to kick back and relax." I fed him a few more lines about movies I didn't own. He smiled as the doors opened on my floor and I couldn't get out of there fast enough. My heart was racing. Five feet. That's how far it was from the elevator to my room. It should have taken me only three seconds to get into my room and lock the door.
I twisted the handle to my door and threw the weight of my body against the door. Nothing. Normally it would pop open, but not this time. It was locked. I bounced off with a wall-vibrating thud and nearly dropped the VCR. I was sure that everyone on the floor heard it. Funny... I didn't remember locking it, but I could have. My nosy next-door neighbor popped his head out of his room upon hearing the crash. He liked to invite himself along for dinner, movies, and anything else. He was as lonely as I was. But I chose to handle it by hibernating. He chose to handle it by attaching to anyone who would hold a conversation with him. Looking back I realize how much he was hurting, but I was so lost in my own life, I didn't see.
"You okay, Jerry? Oh... a VCR." (I was apparently talking to another rocket scientist.) "What are you going to watch? Want me to bring the popcorn over?" That was, in fact, the absolute LAST thing I wanted. Knowing that he abhorred the silly antics of the Three Stooges, I told him that I had rented ten Three Stooges videos for ten dollars at a local store. I was going to watch them back to back and just veg out in preparation for mid-terms. He grimaced and said "that's okay... Let me know if you change your mind and want to watch a movie."
I nodded, found my dorm key on my keyring, and let myself in.
Finally, I was safe in my dorm room. I locked the door to prevent any unscheduled interruptions, and began hooking up the VCR to my small black-and-white TV set. Once that was done, I plopped myself on the bed and reached for my dorm fridge to get a Pepsi. That's when I noticed it. My bible.
I was still a professing Christian, so owning a bible wasn't unusual. I still took it to church, so having it laying out on my desk wasn't unusual. But it was open. THAT was unusual.
I wondered which of the guys was curious about my bible, and what they were curious about. I began reading it where it was open to see if I could gain any clues. "I don't know this man." was the sentence that I saw. It was Peter's denial of Christ in the Jewish courtyard. I read the entire chapter, trying to see what the person may have been looking for, so I could know who it might have been. But the more I read, the more I could feel a voice speaking to me. Not an audible voice, but one so deep in your soul that you can't quiet it if you tried.
No one ever said that it was easy
So come out of the cold and stop your bleeding
I never would of thought that things could
Go this far, but please believe me...
I'll pick you up, won't let you fall
I'll build your trust and it won't hurt at all.
I heard God in my heart very clearly in that moment. "I gave you three chances, Jerry."
"When, God?" I spoke aloud in response to the words being etched on my heart.
"Tonight... I gave you three chances to be free and admit what you've done." Images of the people's faces of the past few minutes flew through my mind. I knew what he was talking about.
"What have I done? I'm just watching a movie." I was scared. Did he really know what I was going to do just minutes before? Did he know the contents of that tape? I know. Looking back, that is a silly question. But at the time, that's what I was thinking. I was, as I always had, trying to hide my sin under my clean-chrisitian image. But not God. It was useless. He saw the rotten tomb inside. The clean pristine image outside wasn't fooling him in the slightest. But here I was... me... the small frail dirty human. And I was arguing with all-powerful God... the creator of the Universe and all creation. I was struggling to maintain the porcelean mask I'd held up for years.
"Jerry. I gave you three chances. But you denied me... You denied telling the truth so that you could hide your own lusts. You have to choose. Do you want me, or not? If you claim to be my servant, live it. If not, stop pretending." The weight of those words was too much. I broke down. In the middle of my dorm room, I fell to the floor and just cried. I was broken, inside.
Are you gonna run away, and leave me here alone?
Are you gonna run away, and leave me here?
When I feel numb I'll let you know,
I won't become what I was before,
You cannot kill what's not your creation,
This is the Art of Breaking.
This is the Art of Breaking.
My life, in that one moment, shattered. I cried there on the cement and tile floor simply begging God's forgiveness for hours. By midnight I was exhausted. I had been pouring out everything I'd done and giving all to God... every thing I could think of... every sinful thought that I could dig out. I cried so much that I couldn't cry any more. Shortly into the new day, weak and tired, I peeled myself off the floor and looked around the room.
My body was cold from laying on the cement floor. But I felt something... The room was the same as it was before. The tape was still on the shelf. The bible was on the bed. But, as tired as I was, there was something different. Peace. That was a feeling I hadn't felt in years. In the act of hiding, I had to be on guard 24/7. I couldn't just rest, and experience peace. If I did, I might slip up and show a piece of this grotesque slime that I called my life.
But now, I had peace. It was the most amazing feeling to realize I could, once again, feel emotion. I dismantled the VCR from the TV, and took it back down to the front desk. I took the tape back to the 4th floor. I came back to my room and curled up on my bed and talked to God until I fell asleep.
Did I wake upto a perfect life? No. I woke up to a gray day, and to the realization that I now had "a past" instead of "the present". That, in itself, was very comforting. But then an even better thought occurred to me. I had "a future."
In 1993, at the age of 21, I crawled out of my "slow bleed". I was still a dirty, bloody mess, emotionally. I was still alone, but not lonely. I was still struggling to find myself under all of the crud and scars. But I was free from the downward spiral that I'd placed myself in ever so gently. God began slowly lifting me out.
It was over the next ten years that God had to put me back together. Some people he "fixes" over night. But that wasn't my case. He chose to use time to heal the emotional scars I'd inflicted on myself.
I still struggle with lust. Every male in the US does, at some point. And those that don't are either lying like I did, or are very very blessed, and should praise God for this gift. If I were a betting man, my money would go on the former, though.
I still find it hard to discuss this openly. That's why I'm blogging about it. It's much easier to type than it is to speak.
If you've read part one, you know that I like to draw, but it hasn't always been in the best of senses. Since God confronted me, I still like to draw. In fact, it has been one of the ways I come to know how much God loves me. I pour my heart out to God and he responds, and I journal those thoughts and images onto paper.
Did I make perfect choices after that experience? Not in the slightest. In fact, two months after this event, I made one of the biggest choices of my life. But this post is getting too long as it is. That will have to wait for part 3.
Labels: Music, The Art of Breaking
posted by Jerry Hanel @ 11/22/2005 07:33:00 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home