I was raised in my home entirely in the ‘fear of the Lord’, as opposed to the Love of Christ, which is not so bad, as the “fear of the Lord is the beginning of understanding”, which therefore trained me and taught me to “hate evil”, (which is what ‘the fear of the Lord’ means {Proverbs 8:13}), or at least to look upon sin with intense disdain, even though I was so continuously ensnared by it.  Consequently, being ignorant, as I truly was, of Jesus Christ—as I, very sadly so, knew no one who resembled Him in life, and His Loving Character, therefore, was the furthest thing from my understanding,—I strove for a very stern God’s approval, having read the many clear-cut commands of Christ in His Book, and thus seeking to be holy and perfect before Him (Matthew 5:48).  Above all, I wanted so badly to please Him, as His righteousness very much appealed to me (Matthew 6:33); but, like any human, especially a young one (Ecclesiastes 11:9-10; 2 Timothy 2:22), I found it, and quite starkly so, impossibly difficult, as all the system of this world, nearly every interaction with it, showed itself geared to tempt me into some form of sin, and my own nature and heart seemed incomprehensibly mischievous and treacherous in spite of my virtuous mental ambitions (Jeremiah 17:9; Romans 7:22-24).  I was therefore very despondent, and full, so frequently, of despair.

Nevertheless, as I strove to purify myself, I did find, with no small help from my mother’s austere discipline, despite how wicked this woman’s character ultimately was, that I abstained from outwardly sinful activities, quite unlike many of my friends, who, although calling themselves Christian, showed themselves to be quite unconcerned with living godly, and heeded practically nothing Christ commanded.  To my small credit, I nevertheless felt a level of pity for them, as I was sensible enough to appreciate that they could hardly be expected to live otherwise, at their age, when their parents, their God-given and God-professing guardians, neither instructed them nor disciplined them, and when all their adult supervisors seemed only ever preoccupied with their worldly entertainment and indulgence (Ecclesiastes 8:11; Proverbs 13:24; 22:6).  As I strove to live godly, I found this process made even more difficult on account of the persecution that came with trying to live so (2 Timothy 3:12).  Indeed, without my mother’s constant judgement and even oppressive scrutiny of my behavior, (which, thankfully, for the early portion of my childhood, I naively took as her encouragement to keep doing right), it is likely that I would have early given up; but I believed that she was a good woman; and, as she was my best idea of the Person of God, I strove as much to please her, believing that, as she and He must undoubtedly be alike, for her constantly speaking His Word and judging others quite accurately by it, my pleasing her should be indicative of my having also pleased God.

And so I fervently and humbly prayed, and begged God; I held long vigils in prayer and in the reading of His Word, binging His Word frequently, and hungering and thirsting after the righteousness that seemed as much inwardly and privately to evade me, in perfect proportion as I seemed outwardly to attain it.  It was as though sin, originally reigning in my outward members—in my arms, legs, and in my eyes and in my mouth—that as I purified now one leg, and later one arm, and here the other leg, and there some portion of my eyes, and then finally my other arm, being fearfully afraid of Christ’s exhortation that one should cut off whatever member caused them to sin, (our eternal destiny being that serious) (Matthew 18:8-9); it was as though the scrubbed sin did not exactly wash off from these appendages that I strove to sanctify, so much as it merely recoiled, merely retreated into my torso, and into my heart, where it was then all the uglier and darker for having concentrated itself so tensely into one location, no longer to stretch itself out at ease and in comfortable expression throughout my whole nature and being.

From there, further examining myself beneath the Light of the Word, I found that I had, consequently, become nothing more than a Pharisee, nothing better than one of those whom Christ so contemptuously condemned—outwardly a white-washed sepulcher, while within all manner of rot and decay, along with many a dead-man’s bones, lay putrefying to the utter nausea and revulsion of my senses alone (Matthew 23:27-28).  Being so much more outwardly righteous I now found myself almost involuntarily hating everyone who seemed not to notice my virtue, who neither took any account of it nor praised me for being so good, though I had striven so hard and was so evidently much better than they—after-all, how could they dare praise other people, particularly in my presence, for far, far less and petty life-accomplishments, and thus overlook the greatest and most sacred aspiration of all which was so clearly and daily being depicted in me: holiness?—; no, quite ironically, they were, in general, only ever quick to judge me the more harshly whenever it was I faltered or tripped, or even showed myself on the verge of tripping: such severe rebuke seemed their only recognition of my good; and I detested them for that evil and felt myself justified in doing so.  I so hated them for being less, and particularly for being coolly complacent with it; and I could not prevent myself from hating them, although, as I continued in the Word, I began intensely to pray not to do so, as I saw that the Lord prized, above all else, the proper condition of my heart (1 Samuel 16:7; Romans 6:17; Luke 6:45; Proverbs 4:23), the desirable state of which my murderous and hateful heart could not have been further from.

Thus, ultimately, I had failed, yet again; yes, after all MY work, after all MY strenuous effort, I still came up so miserably and painfully short.  I was now only the more keenly aware of my utter failure before a righteous God; my sin, ever in my heart and therefore in my hidden attitude and thoughts, was, as David so aptly put it, “ever before me” (Psalms 51:3), and I knew not how to cease from hate in my heart and from bitter thoughts and from an evil and selfish imagination (Romans 7:18).

And then, one night, in confirmation of this reality, the Lord gave me a vivid illustration of the situation I was undergoing.   As I was seated at my desk, writing literature, as was my adolescent custom, under the ambient light of a candle’s flame reaching me at a distance from the opposite corner of my room, I turned my attention for a moment to this flickering splendor, and, upon doing so, could not turn my attention away for having instantly recognized in that humble flame, the analogy of my Savior which He’d given in His Word: that He was “The Light” (John 8:12).  And so this lesser light, beautiful as it was, had been and was still readily supplying, (no doubt like the One Who created it to symbolize and therefore glorify Himself (Romans 1:20))—this light was readily supplying sight and color and warmth and beauty, and therefore ultimately value, to my entire room; having long been, like the God it represented, serving my worldly interests and desires in unwearied silence.

And bearing much of this understanding in mind, I stood up now to approach this meager and lowly light, recognizing that each step toward it was symbolic of my spiritual approach toward Christ (Matthew 11:29).  Yet, the beauty and aura of this beacon was so captivating that it wasn’t until I had drawn more than halfway to it that I finally became distracted by another influence which had begun to slowly overtake the entire periphery of my vision, and which had all the while been quietly overtaking my room behind me just as steadily and determinately as I myself had been to advance.  Likewise, in equal measure as the light was so pleasant and uplifting to my spirit, this creeping influence was as deeply troubling and sorrowful to my soul.  And, no doubt being a direct result of my present appraisal of this simple light’s inimitable splendor, this other, entirely countering influence, (with which I had no doubt been the longer acquainted in life {Psalm 51:5}), was rendered, not exactly frightening, though there was indeed a sense of dread over it,—(unmixed with any of that perversity of thrill which typically attends one’s frequent flirtations with it)—; but instead, and perhaps for the very first time, this subtle influence had been rendered more properly esteemed, being now overwhelmingly hideous to my senses.  And what was all the more loathsome, this overtaking influence, which so prevailed upon my consideration as to now turn me around in order to more fully behold it, was directly the result of my own self, being solely that of my ever-enlarging shadow: so deeply a profound darkness presenting itself in no less than my personal image, and which had been swallowing up the whole beauty of my immediate world in direct proportion as I sought to appreciate the splendid Source of all that I could, only as a consequence of It alone, appreciate as beautiful.

I did not fail to comprehend the vivid lesson: the unfathomable darkness was quite obviously my sin, which I would have been happy to have regarded as its utterly own independent agency and element, had not this humble light made the contrary reality so evidently plain.

So what, then, were my choices?—there were only two, as, fundamentally, there only ever are: to either retreat from that light, of course, and so restore the superficial beauty of my little domain, or otherwise to press on, fixing my gaze all the more strongly and narrowly upon that little yet so powerful flame, upon that ‘consuming fire’ (Hebrews 12:29), as I must rely on the fact that it’s generous light would make certain that all else around me was to be swallowed up in my darkness, save for itself, upon my remaining steadfast and determined to gain a more, and ultimately the most, intimate proximity (James 4:8-10).  But just as that little light did not fail to shine the comfort of it's blessed self upon me, and only continued, just as cheerfully as from the start, to beckon me all the closer, (quite unlike my own instincts), I knew that the love of Christ would neither forsake me; and I held in faith to His promise that He would turn no one away (John 6:37), despite how great of an offense my individual darkness was to the glory of that light.  Yes: I quickly realized that my heart, of necessity, must inevitably sink in doubt and despair beneath fearful and uncertain waves of emotion, (just as Peter himself sank beneath those literal waves that had begun to overwhelm him), so surely as I, like he, took my eyes off of the light, off of Jesus Christ, and turned them upon my inexorably dark image and it's own unisghtly manifestation.

Indeed, although, as an inevitable consequence, I was further destined to confront my own individual darkness all the better for drawing near, by my unavoidable perception of its ever-growing and ever-deepening ugliness uprearing itself as a natural dimension of my carnal nature (Romans 7:14-20), that little flame brilliantly testified to how my own unworthy and offensive image, which I cast at length upon my world, was, in serving the necessary purpose of my proper humility, never intended to become my focus, and to therefore get the better of me, was never meant to steal my gaze away from the blessed flame itself, but was intended, rather, all the more only to strengthen it.  Truth be told, I was the worst offender I could ever conceive of (1 Timothy 1:15); for I beheld the fathomless depth of sin in my own being, before the revealing presence of my righteous Savior and God, and could know no sinful heart nor human spirit as intimately as I was consequently made to know my own!  Thus, at once, in knowing my unrighteous self, by the free outpouring of His fostering light, and therefore identifying the striking line of separation between His Good Character and my evil one, I could now look upon Him as He was, and truly ‘see’, for the first time, my Holy Savior! (Job 42:5-6; Matthew 5:8; Luke 7:47; Hebrews 12:14)

But—oh!—had I known then what I have long known now!—that to have only taken up that taper from its lateral relation to me, and therefore from viewing it as yet another thing to possess, (albeit the most valuable of things), merely meeting with it off to the side and off to one corner of my life and as though it were at all proper for it to remain on my basely level; and, furthermore, to have taken it up from off its position atop some other pedestal which I could have supplied it with (regardless of how costly and precious such a pedestal I placed it upon was); and rather to have proudly exalted it, (just as we behold that greater ‘light of the world’, the Sun, at noonday), by lifting it up and directly over my head, where it most definitely belonged, thereby surrendering the worldly ambitions of my otherwise preoccupied and laboring hands, insomuch as they must thence render my entire being to that little light's service as its permanent pedestal—Oh, how quickly so humble a light would have given me victory over my own oppressing darkness by casting that miserable stain of shadow at once to the ground and utterly under my feet, illuminating my whole perception with a far more fuller radiance than I had ever previously enjoyed! (Hebrews 4:10; Isaiah 26:3; Psalm 119:11; Nehemiah 8:10)