The Duplicitous Man

INTRO

If you personally know me, then you know this is quite unlike me to do such a thing.  I’m the one who tends to be rather private and will not divulge too much information about myself.  Whenever I’m talking with someone, I’m doing most of the listening.  I enjoy hearing people talking about their lives, their passions, their purpose, and I’ve found that most people appreciate that about me.  I will admit, however, if I’m talking about my vision or purpose, I will talk up a storm.  Although it may give a sense of who I am, it doesn’t give a great deal of insight into me as a person.  I guess the best analogy I can give is to say that if you asked me what car I drove, and I responded with the destination.  You know where I’m going, and by the destination you might have an idea as to what I’m driving, but it doesn’t give a clear description of the vehicle. 

So why am I doing this? 

Many years ago I was experiencing a time in which things were the most “perfect.”  I’m using perfect in quotations to denote that, although life has its problems and its issues, things were going very well.  I was married, had a nice home and was in the process of building something that, frankly was beyond my capabilities, but was the next step in what I had originally intended to build.  During this time, I was meeting new people, almost on a daily basis, and as I would get to know them, they would begin sharing their testimony with me.  I was hearing amazing stories of their battles, things they would have to overcome, struggles they faced and pain they had to endure, and how ultimately through God’s strength, they were able to persevere.  It was inspiring to hear of their strength, and yes, I know God’s strength pulled them through, but it takes a special character, a special fortitude to be able to withstand some of the things they had to go through.  I have to be honest and, as you might soon discover, the things through which I’ve gone are in no way near the level of trauma that a lot of people had to overcome.  I cannot stress that enough.  The “trauma” I have dealt with is minuscule in comparison to what hundreds of thousands and millions of people have had to endure during their lifetimes.   In doing this, I am pretty much publicly announcing how weak an individual I can be.  

But in listening to all these testimonies, I began making a comment, one that is most unwise.  I remember when I was younger, I heard a preacher make a comment about patience.  You may have heard it.  It pretty much stated that you should be most careful if you pray for patience.  In essence, if you’re stupid/brave enough to ask God for patience, He’s not going to just magically give it to you. You’re going to be going through some serious stuff to learn patience.

I can still hear his words, “So just make sure you’re really ready to go through some trials if you’re going to pray that prayer.” 

I have remembered that statement my whole life, and I would be like, “God, I’m good.  I’m trying to be as patient as I can.” 
And as smart as I was to avoid ever praying that, I took stupid to a whole other level by complaining that I didn’t have a testimony.  It’s not that I didn’t have a testimony.  It’s just that in comparison to what I was hearing, there just wasn’t much there.  So, yes, I stupidly verbally said that I didn’t have a testimony…….a number of times.

But here’s the little nugget that takes that stupidity into places so high few humans have even imagined.  I DON’T LIKE TALKING ABOUT MYSELF!  So who cares if I don’t have a testimony?   I’d rather not say it anyway.  What on earth was I thinking?  Obviously very little thinking was involved, you may say to yourself, and you would probably be right.  So why am I doing this? 

I few years ago I was reading a book that is inspirational.  Don’t ask me the name of it.  I don’t remember, and I don’t really remember much about what it said.  There’s a reason for that.  I’m not saying it was a bad book, but I found myself in an interesting line of thinking as I read it.  When I was reading it, I was in the middle of my biggest failure and so I was enjoying reading about the author’s mentality as he had overcome his failure.  And yes, there’s a certain comfort knowing that people have gone through what you’re going through, but something else struck me.  As I was reading it, I came to the realization (certainly not a brilliant stroke of genius observation) that, although the author had experienced what I was going through, he is no longer in that stage as I was reading it.  I had lost that sense of comfort.  Yes, he may have gone through it, but he’s enjoying his success right now, or else he’d never have a book.  Knowing that, I lost the connection, so I pretty much lost interest.

It got me to thinking that perhaps I should start a blog entitled, “In the Midst of Failure,” and detail my struggles, so that it could touch people who were, at that very moment, experiencing the same types of troubles.  So I started writing, but I just couldn’t bring myself to post it.  (Did I tell you I didn’t like talking about myself?) 

But a few things changed my mind.  The first was a meme, that I came across, that said, “Tell the story of the mountain you climbed.  Your words become a page in someone else’s survival guide.”  It really isn’t much more than an ad for an inspirational book, but there was something about the meme that just hit me.  I don’t know what it was.  Maybe it was just timing, or perhaps I was just in a different state of mind.  What began to put this in motion was when Facebook initiated their “Stories” feature, and I began to contemplate putting a streamlined version of “In the Midst of Failure” in that section.  I liked the concept because I would do it in a more artistic way, instead of just merely writing it.  I would do it in almost a comic book method, in that I would daily post some sort of artistic picture with a caption describing my life.  The other reason why I liked it is because the “Stories” are not permanent.  They post for twenty-four hours and then they disappear.  And for someone who is not at all used to sharing about himself, there was a sense comfort to that.  Yes, I’ve shared it and now it’s gone.  So I began to do that.  I have no idea if they were seen by anyone, and I take a bit of comfort in telling myself that nobody saw them.

As I did so, each day I posted, I listed each picture as a page, and I realized that each page could be a chapter as each caption was brief and can certainly be expounded upon.  But posting little pictures on Facebook was one thing.  Really going into detail about my life was an entirely different matter.  I was really uncomfortable about the thought of taking that step, and yet I was brought to the origin of how I got here in the first place.  I complained that I didn’t have a testimony, and now that God has provided me with one, it would make no sense to refrain from telling it.

You may ask, “How is this different from the inspirational book that you read?” 
You may be asking, “I’m in the midst of failure and you’re enjoying your success, so where do I find my comfort?”

It’s very simple.  This is not necessarily an inspirational book.  This highlights the journey of a very flawed man.  If I’m going to open myself up, then I’m going to have to go all the way.  You could take from this book what you’d like.  Perhaps you have some of the same tendencies, attitudes, feelings or characteristics, and this might serve as a warning.  Or perhaps it does inspire you to rise above who you are and become as God created you.  Whatever the case may be, you take from this whatever you can.  Like a painting, it’ll be open to interpretation.  In any event, I’m going to introduce you to the inner trappings of a man whose duplicitous nature feels like he deserves more while feeling unworthy to receive anything. 

In writing this, I’m going to write in the third person.  In fact, I just might label myself as the Narrator and comment on the character’s actions, feelings and moods.  In creating that distance, it gives me a false sense of security.  As false as the security may be, it enables me to reach into the deep of what is good and bad, light and darkness, genius and insanity.  That sentence right there may tell you about my lack of logical reasoning in this matter.  I am relying on a security that I know is false, and yet it’s real enough for me to take a jump.  They say the definition of insanity is doing the same things over and over and expecting a different result.  However, taking a leap, trusting in a net you know is not secure at all may be a better definition of insanity.

In any event, let us move forward.  Without further ado, I present the duplicitous man.

CHAPTER 1:  ISOLATED AND ALONE
In the midst of despair, isolated and alone, at 19, he tried to figure out his reason for living.

Narrator:  Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, young and old; come one, come all, big and small, short and tall, let me regale you by showing you the inner trappings of a man whose duplicitous nature feels like he deserves more while feeling unworthy to receive anything.  He’s a living contradiction, incongruous with himself.  He is the duplicitous man.

He stood in the living room of a house that was empty.  It had been his home for a few years, but he missed the home where he spent most of his childhood.  The comfort of home was no longer there.  It was a dwelling place, a very nice one at that, but his heart was not there.  The truth is his heart had been shattered to a point where he didn’t have a clue where the pieces were, and so he disconnected.

His younger brother would often call him a robot because there appeared to be no feelings emanating from him.  Though they weren’t visible, they were certainly there.  He was broken, so much so that he couldn’t deal with his emotions.  They had to be buried.  He could feel them eating at him, yet he wouldn’t be totally consumed by them. 

“This is not that bad,” he said aloud, his voice shattering the silence. 

NARRATOR:  If he were honest with himself he would agree that what he was going through was not that big a deal.  He had never known hunger.  He had never known thirst.  He had never been homeless.  He did not know abuse, nor did he experience anything less than growing up under the support of two loving parents. 

Much had changed in the last few years.  He thought of what it was like just a few years back, a childhood that was in no ways perfect, but one in which he had very few complaints.  If you’ve ever seen the show “The Wonder Years” or the movie “The Sandlot,” then you might have a glimpse into his childhood.  The fact is, growing up, he had three sets of friends.  Being young, he never fully appreciated it.  There’s that old line that says that you never fully appreciate something until you lose it.  He was certainly learning that lesson now.

His parents had become Christians when he four years old, and so going to church on a consistent basis became a way of life.  They got heavily involved, and so Sunday mornings, Sunday evenings and Wednesday evenings were spent at church.  It wasn’t a big church, three hundred people at its largest, but there were plenty of kids there that were his age.