Was it last month? The days I spent were filled with emptiness and sighs, so much so that even my favorite TV shows failed to capture my attention. In those moments, I felt a longing to draw closer to Jesus, who seemed distant. From a young age, practically born into faith, I was taken to church by my mother. Despite living a life held by God without significant rebellion, personal encounters with Jesus were rare for me. For some reason, when I thought of Jesus, He felt more like a figure from the past rather than my Savior. While I had assurance of salvation, Jesus didn’t feel as familiar or intimate as God the Father or the Holy Spirit.
But Jesus, who once felt so far away, began to reenter my thoughts. As I was choosing a book to read, one title caught my eye: “The End of Me, The Beginning of Jesus.” It seemed to speak directly to my current situation, so I started reading. Before long, tears poured out as I came across the sentence, “I met Jesus at the end of me.”
“The end of me, the bottom of my pit.” I have been experiencing this so profoundly lately. Before, the factors that pushed me to my limits were external. But now, I am face-to-face with the weakness within me. Seeing myself fail repeatedly under the weight of this weakness is nothing short of devastating. Every night, as if on schedule, tears arrive. My prayers, mingled with sighs and tears, reflect my despair. The book forced me to confront the truth once more:
“There is joy and peace that can only be discovered when you sincerely repent in the face of sin. The place where tears of sorrow flow is precisely where God’s blessings can be found.”
It’s paradoxical. It feels as though I’m being told that I’m in the best possible place right now. I don’t fully understand it, but strangely, I feel it might be true.
Until now, I viewed my weakness solely as a burden pressing down on me. I thought that if only I could get rid of it, I could live much more happily and freely. I resented myself for having this weakness and being unable to control it. But a new thought began to surface: “Do I really need to struggle this much because of it?”
There’s a saying that tragedy up close can appear comedic from a distance. Right now, this weakness before my eyes feels like a tragedy. Yet, I believe there is a seed of hope within this weakness. One day, that seed will sprout and grow. It will eventually become a thriving tree. As written in 2 Corinthians 1:4-5, this weakness can help me understand and empathize with others. Even more, it may enable me to comfort and support them. If that’s the case, then the sorrow I experience now will become the nourishment for roots of joy and gratitude to grow.
My story is still ongoing. What I thought was resolved has overwhelmed me again, more powerfully than ever, and I’ve been swept up in its force. They say the eye of a storm is calm. Though destruction surrounds it, the center remains still. Could meeting Jesus at rock bottom feel like being in the eye of the storm? In my state of chaos, confusion, and distress, Jesus walks toward me. Though the fog still lingers and His form is hard to discern, a warm and gentle peace of hope begins to seep into me.
I still feel uneasy, fearing the next storm that may suddenly engulf me again. But I choose to accept even that fear. I lay bare all my unstable thoughts and turbulent emotions swimming through my mind. Step by step, I venture into the end of me and the beginning of Jesus.