I’m hoping I can sort them all out in here. Feel free to comment!

Psalm 22:1 ~ My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, so far from my cries of anguish?

This is how it is when Nigel takes over. It’s obviously not a good place to be in, letting the bad parts of you tear you down, so let’s try to fight our “Nige”es.

These aren’t in any specific order. Just ideas I’m trying to share

Some questions I’ve been asking myself as I think about publishing all my thoughts.

I thought you should hear this truth. Maybe I’ll start writing on this again

I was going up to my room to write for a while, but now I’m sitting on the stairs, listening to RUNAWAY by half•alive at 9:21 on 6.24.19. Lot of deep stuff about life going through my head, but I like the way the downstairs looks in the dusk light. I can’t explain it, comment if you understand or not

2.21.19

I don’t know if I’ve published this poem before, but I know it by heart. This week, I’ve been really thinking about how unworthy I am to be saved. Even now, I don’t know why Christ would die for me, even when I’m still hostile and so selfish. I don’t understand. I know that this should lead me to live a new life, like I’ve talked about before, but right now I’m in a funk, and I’m back in the gloom. Trying to figure that out. - 2.27.19

6.11.19 (almost 6.12.19, like in 33 minutes) - It’s crazy to think that God went ahead and died for all of us, even when a ton wouldn’t accept His Salvation. It’s right here in front of us, right now He’s offering to save your life and take you into His kingdom. Your world won’t immediately be fantastic, we must still rely on God to resist the devil’s schemes to lead us from having faith. We are not worthy, we will still stumble, but God will not let us fall, because He loves us and desperately wants a relationship with us.

This is a combination of a poem I wrote a couple months ago and a song I wrote a couple years ago. Last month, I painted something for art class, and in the description I described the bed to represent this idea of what is normal—a bed is a pretty typical thing for a lot of people, an everyday item—and how “our monsters” can hide under this mask of normality we put on. I think this poem goes along with that idea.

I try to make it so even the way the poetry looks has meaning; I made the lines sink in, then raise back up, even as the lines get darker and it seems like I’m losing more hope. I recognize that the darkness is attacking my heart, but I let it happen, and I let myself think the darkness is right. But even as I’m giving up, and even as I’m losing hope, God intervines and lifts me up. I still feel like darkness—I feel it in me—but God’s still here, and He still wants me to accept His grace.

3.24.18

3.14.19

3.20.19 - 8:30pm

Lines 1, 2, 5, and 6 come from Psalm 42:7. This chapter is talking about a thirst for God, even when you’re feeling lonely or depressed. In this psalm, the author questions why he feels sad and far from God, and knows that his faith is being tested.

I take “deep calls to deep” as God is always wanting us to grow closer to Him, so our faith will always be built or tested. And I see “in the roar of your waterfalls“ as God’s glory and power.
“see as i weep” shows the conditon I’m in since I’m not trusting God and I’m not totally committed to Him. A lot of this poem could have a double meaning, such as “i don’t trust you in the falls” or simply the title, “the fall.” The title could either reflect this line, and would mean that I don’t trust God in a leap of faith. Or it could reflect the theme of the poem, and how I’m afraid to fall away from faith.
“all your waves and breakers have swept over me” could either mean that I’ve been shown God’s power, or God keeps giving me His grace, or I keep getting convicted to come back to Him.
“i’m with all the fakers” expresses that I feel like I’m faking my faith. I feel like a fan, not a follower. And I feel like I’m just in the crowd of fans. “let me drown at sea” also has a double meaning. I deserve to die, physically and spiritually, and I don’t deserve for Jesus to extend His hand to pull out of this ocean of emotion. Or it could be my plea for God to drown my demons again.

I’m feeling very semi-automatic and double-sided. I know where God is. I know I can come before Him at any moment. But I choose not to. I know my state of being isn’t healthy, and I know my well is dry and I thirst for other things because I’m not drinking from the living spring. I feel like I’m ignoring God.

up for interpretation

This poem was inspired by The Book of Eli. It’s a super good movie, and I love the symbolisms of faith. I think it gives a good picture of what it’s like to fully depend on God, and to truly live by faith rather than by sight. We are all walking blind in life, but most of us rather open our eyes and live within the realm of an apocalypse. But while I’m hear, I rather live by hearing the direction of God. My path is not clear, but I know the Lord is guiding me, because any moment I turn to Him, I can feel His presence, and I hear His voice, leading me step by step to finish the race.

I have never written a suicide note, but I’m sure a lot of you have been there. I never have planned to **** myself, but I have been in a mindframe that would spiritually **** me. Because we fancy the darkness, and we fantasize about what it’s like. Then, before we know it, if we’re not careful on how we think, we’re depressed. It goes something like that. But now, as I go back to the things I have written before, and I try to critique them or add on, it just doesn’t feel right. I’m in a different, much better place, and you can be too. It’s like that saying, “If you want out of the whole, first you have to put down the shovel.” You’re able to make it out of this depressed, suicidal, anxious mindframe, to a point where you can’t even turn back. But first, you have to lay down the gun. Things truly do get better, once you start to change your mindframe. I don’t like the saying, “Fake it until you make it.” But when you read my poems, I try to incorporate hope, even when I don’t feel it. And eventually, after searching for that hope, I found it. And it turns out it was right in front of me all along.

I wrote this back in December. I’ve used before the analogy of a car or driving to represent where I’m at in my faith, such as in “Cruise Control” or when I said before that I’m “far from home”. Here, I’m using it to say that I tried, myself, to get out of the darkness, or to live in the light of God. But I can’t do it by myself. If I had relied on my own strength, I would have still been dead spiritually. But God figuratively opened the garage door, or took me out of the darkness I was living in, and opened me up to the light. Now I’m able to take this vessel, me, and allow God to use it to bring His light to the world.

I’ve realized that suicide no longer scares us, in a way. To my friends, it’s normal; it’s just a part of culture. It’s all around us—we’re surrounded by it, and the thought hounds us. And when we only raise prevention when someone famous kills themselves, it’s just glorifying death. My friends, they’re not scaref of death. Our society today feeds off of the bad things. Even when we **** ourselves.

I wrote this back in October, but I don’t think I ever published it. I was thinking about it the other day and found it in one of the old notebooks I used to write my poems in. I’m still surrounded by darkness, and hounded with the temptation to return. I could give in. I could revert back to my sinful nature. I could let the night overwhelm me. But my Lord has anointed my head with oil; He has strengthened me with His righteousness and His holiness. He seats me in the presence of darkness for me to be the light. Sure, there is darkness—but that’s only the conflict of the story. God’s light is the driving plot.

I wrote this a couple weeks ago. I've written poems about how the night (literally or metaphorically) can be a dangerous place for me, because I let myself think too much and twist up the truth. But now, I don't let that rule me any more. When Jesus offers peace and joy, that doesn't mean we'll worry or fear any more—no, that's still holding onto our sinful nature, the way of life Jesus has saved us from. He offers a new life, without any worry or fear, and with complete joy and peace, requiring complete and total dependence on the Spirit. It's not hard, just ask the Spirit to help you. It's something that is built up and worked on throughout your faith, and sometimes, like me, you do have to go through a season of wilderness before you realize what it means to have total dependence on the Lord.

Philippians 4:6-8 ~ Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think of such things.

It isn't enough to know God or even believe in who He is. No, God does not command or want us to merely believe in His love, in His grace, in the peace He's brought us. Because of what He has done, because of what He does in our lives, our lives should change. I've written a poem called "Torch", where I'm calling out to God to lead me out of the darkness. And He has, but that's not the end of the story. I am so thankful He has lead me out, and that He has defeated death to bring me a new life where I don't even have to fear the darkness. So because of what He's done, I will rejoice and share His Gospel, the Gospel that has transformed my life. It's not enough to "touch His torch", or to "stand on His porch". I am the torch; God is so gracious, that while I am still a sinner, He allows me to be His ambassador, a messanger of His Good News.

I am free from the tyranny of the defeated enemy within, and I am restored to my true humanity—the human vessel of God. The Lord has opened the windows of my faith and will move in to do the impossible. At first, I was scared to publish this, because I was still holding onto the fear that I won't measure up to this poem. I will still sumble, but when God invites me in to live in Him and Him in me, I am given a peace so graciously which overcomes these 'rooms', these 'islands', these fears, worries, self distrust. The old has died in Christ's burial, and my new life, the life He will live through me, has come through His resurrection.

I wrote this one about a week ago as well, along with "Distress Call". I've used the metaphor "blink" to represent letting yourself be dragged back to the darkness. Metaphorically, when we close our eyes, we see the darkness behind our eyelids, or the dark side of us. And for some reason, although we would prefer it wouldn't be there, that dark side of us is attracted to it. I've used the ocean to represent our emotion several times before, to show how vast our thoughts can be. When I let my sinful nature take control of me, I turn to these idols, or islands, rather than God, letting these trials and suffering (the winds and the waves) overcome me rather than relying on God as my strength.  The islands represent me taking it upon my own self to deal with my emotion. I go back to writing to put my trust and hope in this stronghold, or the islands. I call them my wrists, because I write to help me deal with the pain, and that can be dangerous when I do that rather than handing it over to God. I'm learning how important it is to hold onto truth and lean on God's wisdom and strength. As Paul says in the book of Romans, there are two laws at work within me: the law of the Spirit and the law of sin and death; I must choose which one to be a slave to—either I go back to the nature of sin and death, or I deny myself and my own desires to put God in His rightful place in my life and rely on His Spirit to take hold of my heart and transform me. I am weak, and in my weakness I must depend on the Spirit to guide me and overcome the temptation to revert back to or bow down to my sinful nature. (Read Romans 7:7-25)

I wrote this, I don't know, a week ago I think, and I've been critiquing it every now and then. When I was at church, listening to the lesson about God being with us in the wilderness, the speaker said, "God's address is at the end of the rope," meaning that you only experience complete peace, joy, and hope once you let go of these strongholds and admit to God that you have nothing and you sincerely need Him. I'm reaching that point now, and I'm learning even more about how much I need my Lord to have control of my life. At some point, when we're in this darkness and we're going through these struggles, you realize something's not right in your life. As we walk through our faith, God will put us through trials to realize that we need to go even deeper in our faith, that we need to trust Him even more if we're going to remain faithful. It's like math class—each year, you add on to what you already know; each season of life, you deepen your faith even further. And at this time, you realize you have nothing besides God—no stronghold will sustain you, only God.

In Genesis 19, God destroys the two cities of ***** and Gomorrah because of their sin and orders only Lot and his family to leave the city. They are instructed not turn back to look at the cities. Lot's wife turned around, clinging to the past. When God deals with our past and our sinful nature, He instructs us to be willing to turn completely away and not to hold onto any fear, doubt, or disobedience. "Hometown" represents doubts, fears, and ultimately not putting my complete trust in God—the place where I'm coming from. I believe that's why I'm going through this 'season of wilderness'. I'm tempted to look back after trusting God to throw off my sinful nature and trust in His Spirit. God's still working on me to let go of my desires and align my heart with His, and He's still 'hiding His face' to test and build my faith.

Lately, I've been learning through reading the Bible and praying about how to rejoice through the struggles. Even as we go through these dark times, we're able to praise the Lord for what he has done for us and for His faithfulness; He promises His truths remain the same, even in the valleys of life. I am thankful for what I've gone through, and how it has allowed me to help others. It seems like every time I go through something, I have been able to talk to several other people who are going through the same thing and help them out. That gives me joy as I go through the darkness, being able to pour into others, and I rejoice in the Lord for using me as His servant and the peace He grants through the pain.

I wrote this as if I am talking to my demons, or the darkness I go through. I know that I'm haunted by these things, and Satan keeps on trying to break my spirits, because of the great things God is going to do through me. But I won't let the demons overcome me, because I know God has gotten me this far for a reason, and He is going to use me as His vessel.

I visualize my emotions as different rooms; I suppose these metaphors are a way for me to feel control over my thoughts, to give a name I can comprehend to these things I don't exactly understand. There are different mindsets I'm able to enter into, and I'm able to keep myself in that room and lock myself up in that room, whether it's good or bad. I still feel myself being drawn to that state of mind where I let my emotions overcome me and control me. I know some friends who are in the same place. I titled this "hallway", because I don't think we've exaclty reached a room where that darkness doesn't affect us. Maybe that's not a possibility, but still we prevail towards hope.

I look back, squinting into the past season of my life. How I felt so controled by those dreary walls, that vacant room. I give a long glance at the world behind me, long enough to realize how far I've come, but shortly so I won't give them the authority to drag me back.

Jeremiah 33:3 ~ Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know.

It's easy for us to doubt God. It's not a sin for us to question Him at some points in our faith, but I hate to see people abandon God because they don't feel like He's answering them. Call out to God. It's okay to be angry, upset, or frustrated with Him; look at David from the Bible, and the Pslams he wrote. When we cry out to God, He will not leave us in the dark. He meets us right where we are, and He loves us enough not to leave us there.

I know some day when I publish my work, it won't all sound the same, because it will be my final and most encouraging draft....Does that make sense? The purpose of the imagination God gave me

Though I am not with you, know I am fighting alongside you.