However, I am NOT a fan of the resulting pain that sinks deep into my bones and lingers and nearly takes a life of its own. I hate the bitter, hateful, and angry person I become when pain takes hold, and I especially abhor the nasty and mean words that I don't even think twice about flinging upon others. I know pain affects my bp and pulse rate, and I know that it is so difficult to be in control of my actions when I cannot even control the pain that well or get enough blood to my brain so I can actually have some control of my cognition. I think it is the lack of control that scares me the most... and I lash out in anger.
I do this the most when I am the most lax with prayer, and when I fail the most at constantly remembering God's presence. And, well, with the few brain cells I have left, my mind certainly is unable to be left alone, to drown in my own wounded passions. I need to have a constant remembering of Him whose image is imprinted into my very soul. To cooperate with this transformation, of being made into His likeness, because it is only when I am in His likeness am I most truly myself. Pride tries (and manages at times) to convince me otherwise. That I don't need Him, and I can manage by myself. It is the moments of clarity that I begin to realize just how insignificant and small that I am. And yet, because of His love, I am significant... Beautiful paradox!
O Heavenly King, Comforter, Spirit of Truth, Who art everywhere present and fillest all things, Treasury of good things, and Giver of life: come and abide in us, and cleanse us from every sin, and save our souls, O Good One!
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