Dear Fellow Believers,
I recorded these shows all alone in the "upper room" of the 150 year-old building in downtown Greenwich, OH, the building owned by hardware store owner Buck Montgomery. The creepy thing about my part of the building was that the Masons used it for their diabolical conclaves. I thought how clever it was of God to switch the use of the place
from a satanic cult to the publication of the glories of the secrets of Christ.
Me leaving my home office to rent the downtown office was really the beginning of the end. It wasn't my idea. I didn't want to leave the house, where my family was, but Marcia said I was taking over the house---I was using two of the rooms, one for the production of audio cassette tapes, and the other for writing. It didn't seem like "taking over the house" to me, but hyperbole had its way. It
wasn't a good thing. It is never good for a man to be alone.
Six years previous, the first day of this work, was the beginning of a slow death sentence. Some people are not meant to work alone. I am 31 years into the sentence. Mentally, it gets worse every year. I get more depressed all the time. It chisels at the psyche. It is death by a thousand cuts of loneliness. It is remarkable how slow but persistent the death sentence is. The apostle Paul never mentioned it, really,
except to say that it was "a vast struggle." So that was probably it. It's hard to know exactly what he meant by that, but I think the least of his struggles was getting physically beaten, shipwrecked, stranded in a swamp. These things are easy compared to the mental struggle. (At least the physical beatings eventually stop.) Paul's primary struggle was solicitude for the ecclesia. Wanting them. Needing them. Missing them. He never went out on a missionary journey without a companion or two.
Never—not that I can tell.
Writing is lonely business. The only thing worse than writing is not writing—way worse. There is no one more miserable than a writer who is not writing. Writing is on many occasions pleasurable. My writing career got hijacked by my speaking career, which I never meant to do and never wanted to do. I was and am a writer. I have the most potential for happiness when I am writing. I never expected to be broadcasting. The problem was that I discovered I
was effective at it and that people liked it. So I started doing more of it. And I was stunned at being delivered—for the most part—from stuttering.
I didn't know about the coming of YouTube. I didn't know that people would stop reading books and start watching YouTube videos. I didn't know that I would be speaking to so many people over the YouTube platform and that the thing would be so widespread and effective, so much so that it would be irresponsible for me to stop doing
it.
I think I would have my best chance at happiness (while still engaged in this work) by quitting broadcasting and returning to full-time writing. I am not a speaker, I am a writer. Don't worry. I'm not going to quit broadcasting. Sometimes I wish I could, but I can't. I'm reaching too many people, too effectively. I told Christ thirty-one years ago that I would do whatever it took to publish the Word. (Me and my big mouth.) So now I'm stuck. But I make the best of it and,
as I always say, I am thankful for it. It doesn't matter how desperately unhappy I might be, I will continue doing it and I will continue to be thankful to God for the honor. When it's time to leave the work on this plane of existence, I hear the severance package is exceptional.
I have little energy and steady depression. But I put on a good front. I am basically deep-down panicked and desperate at having to continue on this earth. I try to keep it under control with kratom
and cigarettes. I know I would be happier if I were bagging groceries. That would be a really good job for me because I would be with other people and the job would be so satisfying because you can arrange things in the bag in the right way so that some things don't crush other things. By this means, you make everyone happy. I don't think it would be too big of a mental strain. No controversy either, I would imagine. No one calling you a false prophet. No great arguments about where the bananas
go in relation to the canned beans.
I go into Trader Joe's and envy every person working there. I think I would be at my happiest if I could quit this work land a gig at Trader Joe's. But I am not on this planet to be happy. I am here to be a drudge for Christ and for you, the body of Christ. I am here to put on a happy face doing it. I have to reiterate that I am thankful for this job and that it's surely the best job in the world. It's just not the easiest job in the
world.
I did not expect to be writing this. I did it instead of crying. Thanks for reading.
From the edge of everything,
Martin