How Doubt Awakes the MAN and Christ Restores the Code
Prologue ā The Year Between
When I turned forty, I asked myself a simple question:
Who will I be at forty-one?
It wasnāt a crisis ā more like a crossing.
A quiet reckoning between what Iād built and what was still building me.
For half my life, I chased meaning through momentum.
But somewhere along the way, I began to feel something else stirring ā
not ambition, not achievement, but a kind of remembering.
It was as if life itself was debugging me,
removing what no longer ran clean,
rewriting what still could.
So who am I now?
Not a success, not a saint, not a savior.
Just da bugger ā Natureās Debugger.
Or, as Iāve come to call it lately, #dbga.
Someone trying to trace the code that keeps grace alive.
The Reflection
Sometimes I donāt write to explain what I believe,
but to trace how belief rewrites me.
This reflection lives somewhere between faith and physicsā
where spirit feels like source code,
and grace appears not as doctrine, but as design.
It follows The Pulse of Unionā
where I first began to sense how life and L.I.F.E. (Living Intentionally For Evolving) move as one body.
If that piece explored the rhythm that connects all things,
then Natureās Debugger turns inward to study what breaks that rhythmā
how doubt bends us away from union,
and how grace still finds a way to restore the code.
The Lens ā Seeing the System
Sometimes I feel as if Iāve seen behind the curtainā
as if Iāve caught the pulse of what keeps the universe alive.
The rhythm feels ancient, recursive, precise.
Breath mirrors tide. Light echoes heartbeat. Everything hums in balance.
Itās as though Iāve stumbled into natureās original design system
and been invited to help restore itāto act as a kind of debugger
for the places where humanityās code has looped into self-destruction.
I can almost trace the breakpoints: where greed overwrites gratitude,
where speed corrupts stillness, where extraction runs in infinite recursion
while renewal is quietly commented out.
The Language ā When Doubt Writes the Bug
But the deeper I look, the more I see how every glitch begins the same wayā
with doubt. Not the gentle kind that invites wonder,
but the hollow kind that loses faith in connection.
When faith fractures, the MANāMalice, Apathy, Negligenceā
slips in like malware, bending us away from union.
Malice turns love into possession.
Apathy turns forgiveness into avoidance.
Negligence turns kindness into convenience.
This is the human bugā
the system error that rewrites communion into competition.
And then, in the confusion, both sides start to accumulate.
The prosperous gather possessions to feel connection.
The poor gather pain to feel seen.
Each begins to store what was meant to be shared,
believing accumulation will bring communion.
But every time we hoardāwhether wealth or woundā
the thread between us frays a little more.
It keeps looping,
generation after generation,
until someone pauses long enough to see the pattern
and remembers: Enough.
The Leadership ā The Christ of Proximity
That pause is grace.
And the Christ of Proximityā
the living patch for the human conditionā
is the one who rewrote the code not with commandments,
but with presence.
His syntax is simple:
Love without boundaries.
Forgiveness without limits.
Kindness without expectations.
That is the original code of creation.
The only fix that holds.
The Legacy ā Living Between Delusion and Revelation
And yet, there are days I think maybe Iāve imagined the whole thing.
That this so-called awakening might just be the echo
of my brainstem tumor whispering metaphors to survive itself.
That what feels like spiritual pattern recognition
could be a delusion born of pain and fearā
a side effect of learning to live at the edge of mortality.
But perhaps the line between delusion and revelation
isnāt meant to be erased; itās meant to be lived within.
Because humility is what keeps sight from turning into certainty,
and mystery is what keeps meaning from becoming machinery.
This tension isnāt baggage burdening my bones.
Itās the marrow of faithā
the deep, unseen strength that lets me still say,
even in doubt, Grace is enough.
The Return ā The Shared Labor of L.I.F.E.
So I live between two hypotheses:
that Iām debugging nature, or that nature is debugging me.
That Iām remembering the codeāor being rewritten by it.
Either way, the system still runs.
And grace, somehow, remains the operating language.
Some awakenings come as light.
Others come as error messages.
Both are holy.
And maybe thatās all the code ever asked of usā
to live awake enough to notice the loop,
humble enough to pause,
and present enough to patch it with grace.
Because debugging isnāt divine work or human work alone.
Itās the shared labor of life and L.I.F.E.ā
the system and the soul learning, together,
to run on love again.
āø»
This reflection flows into The Christ of Proximity ā where the code becomes communion,
and grace learns to live as presence.