Faith Versus Fear: The Dark Side

I want to talk about the flip side of faith versus fear.

I want to talk about those times when faith falters. When you don't win. When you can't save someone. When you can't save yourself.

I want to talk about those times when you try as hard as possible and it isn't enough.

Sometimes you meet someone who is very similar to you, who shares your same strengths and weaknesses. And you love them, because you understand them. You know where they come from. You share the same demons.

And it is so hard not to love someone, almost unconditionally, who shares your demons. Because who knows them better than you? Who knows you better than them? You don't even have to try to communicate in words or descriptions, because you know how it is. You know how hard it gets, and how bad it is. You know in the words of Brand New "all the quiet things that no one ever knows".

And knowing all of this, how can you not want to help them. They are yourself. They are who you are, and who you can be. If they fail, it means you can fail. If they succeed, it means you can succeed. It goes beyond being friends, beyond being brothers, it goes to knowing what it means to look death in the face close enough to discover you have the same cheek bones.

And this is the person who I failed to save. Who I in fact stop trying to help. Because I knew his demons, and knew I wasn't strong enough to save him. Just like most people couldn't save me. I knew that the only person who could save him was him. But how do you tell a person that? How do you get someone to save themselves?

And if you can't convince someone to save themselves have you failed them? Was it a shortcoming of faith? Was it the triumph of fear? Shouldn't have love conquered all - or could I never really love him because he was the walking truth of the dark side of myself.

I wonder if I hate him even now, because I know in my heart of hearts, but for the grace of God go I? I know we are both guilty of doing terrible things. I share his temptations. I share his affliction. I know how it isn't his fault. Not all of it. I know there are some things he can't control. And maybe what I hate most of all is that knowing him so well, maybe as well as I know myself, I still couldn't save him.

And it does hurt. It hurts so much I rarely even think about it. I sometimes forget he even exists. Because I tried to save him. A lot of people tried to save him. For years, we all tried. And it wasn't enough. It was never enough.

Yet, you hope that maybe it was. You hope that maybe your efforts meant something. Maybe you caring meant something. Maybe all of your energy, your life, your time, that you put into helping another person, meant something.

And you pray and you pray and you pray.

But you know that you didn't save them.

You know that almost doesn't count.

That your faith did not win out.

And the only question left at the end, is who to blame?