The Sorrows of My Soul

What I’m about to say is, by society’s standards, anything but manly. Thankfully I am not confined to the world’s definitions! Instead, I commit to the definitions of God, which would certainly call it manly. The obvious reason being that Jesus, the greatest man to ever live, did it all the time. Jesus wept. It is the most honest and courageously wholehearted thing for anyone to ever do, and is therefore manly above just about anything else!

Anyways…

Last night in bed (can’t get much more vulnerable than this) I spent some time weeping. Weeping because of, well, life. It’s been rough on me! It just has!

I spent time weeping for my younger self. For all the unnecessary pain I faced, on top of the obvious. For how cruel and unaware the world can be towards suffering. Weeping for the desperate grasping for significance I went through, even while knowing I already had it in Christ! Weeping for the pointless search for validation because I didn’t have enough voices assuring me that Duchenne didn’t define me by any means!

Don’t get me wrong, I had voices telling me that. I did, and I still do! But it was never nearly as many as you would think. That may be hard to hear, but it’s true! I had my wonderful family, my handful of amazing lifelong friends, and a few choice others that regularly, continually assured me of the truths that I was no different than anyone else and I was so much more than my physical cage of captivity. I had others who offered the occasional kind word of encouragement. And that was about it.

Looking back, I now know that I needed as many people as often as possible to have been telling me these things. Yet, I am not bitter that I lacked enough reassuring voices. And how could I be?! People have their own things going on. Their own worries, their own insecurities, as impertinent as they may be. Believe me, I get it, no matter what it is, our personal struggles are personal and are not to simply be shrugged off. I mean, this is the first time living life for all of us!

Further, I wept over specific moments in my life. I wept for every time there was a 7 year old kid that said, “Hey buddy, do you need any help?” to an 11 year old me at the ballpark. I wept for the time when a guy several years older than me called me a cripple because he thought it would be funny in high school.

I wept over the time in middle school when a classmate pestered me for my nervousness in public speaking, not because I lacked confidence, but because I dreaded drawing attention to my own frailty (shedding tears as I wrote this). I wept because it bothered me so much that I conveniently fled to the bathroom as my turn for a certain presentation approached.. and never came back to the class. I later gave the presentation to the teacher in private.

I wept over the time an art teacher was scolding the class for wasting time and jokingly said, “Right Logan?” while, because of my weakness, I was really far behind on a project (today I wouldn’t even be able to do it). She meant it to be poking fun between friends, but had no idea just how ashamed I was of my condition. I broke out in tears right then and there, in front of everyone. She took me to the side and genuinely apologized, but offered me no real solace because of how much it had taken her off guard. What was she supposed to do?!

I also wept over the fruitless romantic pursuits of my school years. Typically for reasons outside of my control. I had all the confidence, drive, and passion that’s required. But simply because of how human psychology works (which I’ve only recently learned) I had a severe disadvantage. I wept for the heartache that stretched over many years for the unacknowledged value I could add to a girl’s life because as far as she could tell I’d be the one needing value added. (Though no one is able to actually add any value to anyone besides God). I wept for the confusion and lack of confidence it created in a developing me.

I wept for the uncertainty I roamed around in for years as to whether others saw me or DMD, that the wheelchair might be how others labeled me. I wept for the determined effort I devoted myself to in order to prove just how equally independent I was to my peers. For my foolish refusal of the many forms of help that were available to me that would’ve made my life so much easier, had I been more humble to accept. I wept for the complicated and stressful schedule that these refusals unnecessarily created. For my dismissal of my parents’ wise advice to take the help, so I could instead accomplish my irrational quest for normalcy. I wept over the OCD tendencies I wasted so much time torturing myself with in order to achieve that. And I wept for the painful, frustrating toll that I know it put on my family. For the bitterness that my siblings and parents sometimes felt because of it.

I spent much time weeping over the fact that it took me so long to realize and put into words so many of these things. Weeping that while I had enough to survive and thrive through the trial, it was not enough to me. I wanted, to the point of worship, more; to be as physically capable as those around me so people could see how awesome the real me was and is. That I was the man, they just couldn’t quite see it.

I deeply groaned for the restoration of health, and if a miracle wasn’t coming I would force that reality on my own. That was the most unhealthy thing for me to do. Unfortunately that habit controlled much of my school years. And so, I wept for the fact that I did so well in school, but was never really doing well personally. I wept that I struggled with suicidal thoughts through what would amount to a little over a decade. And not because I believed life to be hopeless or pointless, but because it would just be easier. I would be free.

Now, you must be thinking, “How in the world has Logan been able to make it through all of this?!?!” Perhaps the next paragraph will suffice as an answer.

Last night I also spent time weeping in thankfulness to the Lord that He has never left me or forsaken me! Weeping for the continual whispers of the still small voice of His Spirit that assured me of my worth in Him! Weeping for the constant growth throughout my walk of faith, making me more into the image of Jesus Christ while He speaks the truth of life in me! I wept for the joy that is still present in my suffering! For the amazing breakthroughs of confidence and victory God has recently provided! I wept for all that He has been preparing me to do. I wept for the reality that my time to minister has come!

All in all, I spent the time weeping in prayerful adoration of the King of Kings! I offered the good, the bad, the painful, and the freeing. And He received it all!

And I know because Psalm 34:18 (MEV) says, “The Lord is near to the broken-hearted, and saves the contrite of spirit.”

I am also assured that Jesus can more than relate as we read, “He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. And we hid, as it were, our faces from him; he was despised, and we did not esteem him.” in Isaiah 53:3. And His suffering was exponentially worse. Because He took sin and the cross for me, I will take whatever I must to maximize His glory!

Praise God that in every season, at every moment, He was with me and ministering to my sorrowful soul! Even when I didn’t know or see it! As I continue to get older I am seeing all the reasons and purposes for my suffering. How it is meant to change this world for the Kingdom of Christ. And it’s awesome!