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Blarobbarg · 08-17-2012, 10:40 PM

Blarobbarg’s Life Story, PART DONE WITH THIS, ONTO OTHER SHTUFF

I’ve always had an appreciation for traditional gospel music and old hymns, especially when sung a cappella, such as in the example above. Their beauty is transfixing, with voices lifted up in songs that have been sung for hundreds of years. But though I’ve always enjoyed the music, for a long time I was very uncaring of the message behind the words.

And then it all changed.

I’m not going to go into detail on my conversion, because I am not here to preach and that’s the only possible way it could come off. Long story short, I met this guy named Jesus. Before I was introduced, as you already know, I was kind of ****ed up. By the time I got to this point in my life I was hearing voices that were telling me to kill myself. I had sunk so far into depression that I did not see a way out, there was no light. I was in a haze 24/7 and my mind moved at a sluggish pace. I couldn’t wake up, so to speak, and if something hadn’t happened I honestly think I would just be rotting meat underground right now.

So then I met this Jesus guy. I met him largely by my own soul searching, because I hadn’t met many people with real, authentic faith yet. Mostly just people that were as dead inside as I was who were going out their rituals and parroting the mindless phrases that had been mindlessly parroted to them.

Eventually I figured that there was not really anything I could do that would make my life worse than it was, so I decided, “Hey God or Jesus or whoever. If you’re around, you’re gonna have to take care of this, because my life sucks.”

It worked.

Over a shockingly short time, my depression faded. The voices went away. The urges to have my crumpled form flattened under a bus became nonexistent. And shortly, I didn’t care about much anything else except this guy that took my ****. And to this day, that is pretty much all I care about in the long run. Because fighting for stuff, and money, and happiness has only depressed me. This is the only thing that has ever brought me true, unexplainable joy. And since I found out that freedom from your inner demons was more than a sentiment, I’ve met others that aren’t the sign waving, “God hates ***s” spewing, right-wing propaganda throwing hypocrites everyone thinks the Church as a whole is. As Michael Gungor once sung, “She’s not yet dead, His bride is still alive.”

Now, when I hear the old hymns I can appreciate more than the fragile glory in the melody. I’ve been that wretch that you’ve heard of so much. And yes, this grace really, really is amazing.

Next up, stuff that isn’t my self-indulgent life story!

08-17-2012, 10:40 PM	#12 (permalink)
Blarobbarg Do good. Join Date: Feb 2011 Location: Minneapolis, Minnesota Posts: 2,065	Blarobbarg’s Life Story, PART DONE WITH THIS, ONTO OTHER SHTUFF I’ve always had an appreciation for traditional gospel music and old hymns, especially when sung a cappella, such as in the example above. Their beauty is transfixing, with voices lifted up in songs that have been sung for hundreds of years. But though I’ve always enjoyed the music, for a long time I was very uncaring of the message behind the words. And then it all changed. I’m not going to go into detail on my conversion, because I am not here to preach and that’s the only possible way it could come off. Long story short, I met this guy named Jesus. Before I was introduced, as you already know, I was kind of **ed up. By the time I got to this point in my life I was hearing voices that were telling me to kill myself. I had sunk so far into depression that I did not see a way out, there was no light. I was in a haze 24/7 and my mind moved at a sluggish pace. I couldn’t wake up, so to speak, and if something hadn’t happened I honestly think I would just be rotting meat underground right now. So then I met this Jesus guy. I met him largely by my own soul searching, because I hadn’t met many people with real, authentic faith yet. Mostly just people that were as dead inside as I was who were going out their rituals and parroting the mindless phrases that had been mindlessly parroted to them. Eventually I figured that there was not really anything I could do that would make my life worse than it was, so I decided, “Hey God or Jesus or whoever. If you’re around, you’re gonna have to take care of this, because my life sucks.” It worked. Over a shockingly short time, my depression faded. The voices went away. The urges to have my crumpled form flattened under a bus became nonexistent. And shortly, I didn’t care about much anything else except this guy that took my . And to this day, that is pretty much all I care about in the long run. Because fighting for stuff, and money, and happiness has only depressed me. This is the only thing that has ever brought me true, unexplainable joy. And since I found out that freedom from your inner demons was more than a sentiment, I’ve met others that aren’t the sign waving, “God hates s” spewing, right-wing propaganda throwing hypocrites everyone thinks the Church as a whole is. As Michael Gungor once sung, “She’s not yet dead, His bride is still alive.” Now, when I hear the old hymns I can appreciate more than the fragile glory in the melody. I’ve been that wretch that you’ve heard of so much. And yes, this grace really, really is amazing. Next up, stuff that isn’t my self-indulgent life story! __________________ https://rateyourmusic.com/~Blarobbarg ｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆　^my RYM^　｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ (◠‿◠✿)