As I look out my window at the apartment next door I think to myself, where exactly did I go wrong that made my faith take a back seat? I thought about that for a long time while staring out that window. There was nothing severely wrong with my psyche as far as I knew. I was okay mentally. My emotions I could not really speak too kindly of since they’ve provided me such a disservice over the years. Physically, cool beans. My spiritual position is more confused than ever. What does it take to get to heaven or hell? Do those places even exists or are they made up destinations we go when we die in order to have some sense of control over our own eternity? Why do all celebrities go to heaven when they die? Robert Blake isn’t a very good person from my perspective, so when he passes away is his family and close friends going to will him into heaven with their kind words? We don’t even know of Michael Jackson’s morality, but he was such a great performer, God has to put him in His kingdom. And sometimes that upsets me. Here I am stressed, confused about where I stand with God and all I ever needed to do was be something significant in Hollywood and by default I go to heaven. I need to get that going, now.
Truth is God knows our hearts, all the good and bad in it. Only He can redeem us. And as I look out my apartment window I think to myself, with all of my pending success as a writer, I can only lead myself to believe that it will be conceived by the power and favor of God, nothing and no one else. And that whatever happens to me after I die may not be what I deserve according to me, but God is pretty just in his dealings with us, right?