Dancing on a Razor. Kevin John White

told to do anything every day. Not my style. That, and I was in a state of total and helpless depression. Actually, it was more than just depression. This was a soul-sick weariness born of utter desolation. I honestly thought that going through this centre was nothing more than the pathetic motions of futility—an absolute waste of time. Again. But for some reason I stayed put. I don’t know why. I mean, I could probably have taught everything they thought I was learning. You pick up a lot of information in the course of 15 treatment centres. I knew it all, so why in the world was I there? I asked myself that question at least once a day.

      I sighed and stared rather glumly at the irritatingly empty page, in a whole journal full of irritatingly empty pages, which made me even more irritable—sick, depressed, and miserable—and tried to figure out what in the world I could possibly scratch onto this stupid piece of paper for an exercise I considered a complete waste of time. But then something happened—something wonderful. I thought of King David, the greatest king of all Israel, and that’s when everything began to change.

      I really liked this character, ’cause when David was down, he was really, really down. He just cracks me up because one minute everything is so terrible and he’s so depressed and everybody hates him and all his friends are a bunch of no good low-life back-stabbing scum and his mouth is full of dust and worms and God has forgotten all about him and he’s going to lie down in the dirt and eat camel dung and die and no one is even going to come to his funeral ’cause everybody hates him (or something like that!).

      But then he does something. One time while he was really depressed, he says, “I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember your wonders of old. I will ponder all your work, and meditate on your mighty deeds” (Ps. 77:11–12), and then David begins to list all the wonderful things God has done for Israel, and by the time he’s done listing everything he’s all like “Yeah, God! And, you’re on my side ’cause I’m a really good guy, and I love you and you love me, and me and you should go and obliterate all those other fools, ’cause they’re real bad and I’m real good, so let’s go bust their teeth right out of their mouths and break their jaws (and their arms and legs too!), and we should go and grind those dirty evil uncircumcised dogs so far into the dust they’ll never see daylight again ’cause you really, really love me, and between you and me, God, the whole world should give us all their money and say you’re really great—and that I’m great too, RIGHT?!” HA! This guy just kills me! Talk about mood swings!

      Anyway, that is exactly what I did. I began to think about all the times God had done this really strange stuff in my life—things that I had almost forgotten about—like, amazing things. That’s when I became really confused. I couldn’t figure out what God was up to with all this crazy stuff he had done. Why did he do it? It just didn’t make any sense! I had to get organized. I had to be able to look at it all and try to piece it together. I wanted to understand—I needed to understand. So I made a list of what I wanted to look at, and I began to write.

      As I went over my notes and read the stories of what God had done for me and carefully thought through what was there, ever so slowly I began to see that over and over the same message was being pounded into my thick skull time and again—until I finally actually got it. I suddenly understood! After I put it all down on paper, all together in one place, suddenly everything became clear. How can I possibly explain the beauty and wonder of what was right in front of me? As I thought about all the many miracles he had done in my life, the reality of them, and the great mercy and love he had so consistently shown me year after year, it seemed as if inside me a giant floodgate suddenly burst wide open, and the reality of his love washed over me like a tidal wave. And it didn’t subside; it grew more and more powerful day after day, every single time I looked at the hard evidence of his love, right in front of my eyes! You see, it was as I was writing about what God did for me and as I read and reread my notes that he actually broke the chains that had kept me bound for 40 years!

      That is what God’s love is! It is freedom! I wept then. I wept and I wept and I wept—for months on end. I still weep. Many times, I have to stop writing, get out of my chair, put my face on the ground, and try so hard to express my heart to him. Gratitude, love, adoration—none of these words come even close to what I felt as God opened my eyes to show me his hand in my life. I worship him now with a depth never before known to me, possible only because I have seen. I know now! My eyes have been opened to him and to his impossible love. How so very merciful is our God! So worthy of praise! Nothing in all of heaven or earth can compare to him! He doesn’t just love. He is love! The kindnesses he has done for me. The grace. The mercy. The protection he has had over my life—it’s just simply too big for my words to express, and I am left in tears again trying in vain to explain the great mercies of my God. I know now that I am loved, and no one and nothing can ever take that love away or separate me from it.

      So now, I must share what I have found. His love brings with it a freedom impossible to deny, and all I want to do is share that freedom. If only I could touch you for a moment—if only somehow I could give to you what it is I have found, I would do it with all my heart! But all I can do now, all I can ever do, is try as hard as I can to transmit the tremendous love, power, and freedom I have found in this God who loves me, no matter what!

      So, read on then, and my fervent prayer is that the Lord, the God of hope, would flood your heart with light, so that you may know and come to experience the love and mercy I have found while writing these pages.

      May God bless you and keep you in his love always,

      Kevin John White

      Prologue: First Contact

      I remember now how all of this began. For so long, it was as though I’d been dreaming a terrible nightmare, and I’ve only now just awakened. A lifetime has passed, and I had almost forgotten what happened that night so many years ago.

      I was only a child then, perhaps 10 years old, but certainly no more than that. Yet as I wandered back through my heart and quietly walked through my memories, I found it there, still as wondrously beautiful as the day it first appeared and still shining just as brightly.

      That night I had slipped silently from my bed and crept very quietly to my window. We always kept it open at that time of year. The sounds and scents of the night seemed somehow mysteriously transformed into an intoxicating mixture of subtle fragrances, a heady concoction exhilarating to my young imagination. I loved to sit secretly by the window, my gateway to other worlds, and breathe deep the fragrant breeze as I let the warm summer night fill and awaken all my senses.

      I remember, too, gazing wistfully up at the stars and as I searched them, feeling … alone somehow. Not lonely really, just sort of quietly alone. As I sat there, searching, scenting, listening, the night breeze brought a curious sound to my sharp young ears. It was the sound of people laughing.

      I was an unusually inquisitive child (much to my parents’ exasperation), and so intrigued, I focused intently, eager to hear more of this mystery.

      It was a group of people. They were all talking and laughing together, having fun, like a gathering of good friends. They sounded so happy to me—like they were glad to be together.

      It was the sound of friends telling funny stories or sharing secrets known only to them.

      I hadn’t many friends—any friends at all really, not even a best friend. Our family had travelled far too much for that. Besides my brothers and sister, I don’t think I’d ever even had a real friend before.

      I’m not sure why, perhaps that night the evening air had mixed with I know not what, but as I listened to those distant voices, something happened to me. That night something broke wide open inside me.

      It was as if somewhere in my heart, a great yawning chasm had been torn open, and from within it poured out a deep and terrible longing—a powerful yearning for what I heard in that far-off laughter. I longed for the friendship and companionship of people who recognized me, who knew me, who knew my name, and with whom I had a place, even if they were people I could only hope to know.

      I longed for friends that I could laugh and play with, and right then, at that very moment, I knew for