I have playlists on my smartphone through a streaming service that I enjoy. I have playlists for exercise, driving in the car, the Sabbath Day, cleaning, and others that represent various genres such as classical, R&B, and yes, even disco (I was a young teenager in the 70s). I do have one that’s a little unusual. It’s called “Get to Heaven.” The songs there are very eclectic. It includes church hymns, classical instrumentals, some songs from Broadway scores, and even modern music. I had a seminary teacher that very nearly saved my life by teaching me to see gospel messages even in modern music. Now 34 years later, I can hear gospel messages in much of the music that is positive and clean. Sometimes it surprises my friends and family when I share these insights with them, and maybe they don’t see it the same way, but to my mind, it makes sense that the Spirit could teach me, even if the radio is on. Continue reading
I sank deeper into my child’s bed. I recall thinking as I lay there in the semi-darkened room that I really was sinking out of life. With one child at school and a toddler napping, I had time to review my life; time to think and consider.
Things didn’t look good. My marriage was rapidly falling apart; my every effort thwarted. I was disconnected from my family, my parents. I felt friendless. I was sure I was a burden to those around me. I had major health issues, physical challenges that were not going to improve. The view of tomorrow and all the coming tomorrows didn’t look good. My depression laid over me like a dark wet blanket. I’d taken to swallowing sleeping pills in the morning to numb the pain as I stumbled through my days. Joyless days where there was no light. I felt no hope. Just powerless despair. I decided that suicide was the only way, indeed the best way.