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| What is hope? Does need and want necessitate hope? Do the hopeless have the power to hope again? And those that are aware of the hopelessness that is brought by satiation, and yet still are too numb to hope, do they have a way to hope again? It feels impossible to pray. The words are too heavy to take flight. They sit at the end of my tongue with no proper mechanism to transport them out of my mouth. Hopelessness. I find a way to calm the gentle stirring inside my heart. I can read books on the Sabbath and about the prophetic imagination. I can talk to friends or quote poetry to suite a situation. I can write inexpressible thoughts in a pocket journal to alleviate the pain. I can wish upon new friendship to dull the pain of dying senses. I can run, but I can't hide, that to me at least, is the most obvious.
I WISH I COULD HEAR MYSELF, SCREAM.
And this will all end tomorrow, when I awake to find a new day waiting at my bed. It will begin again when I let time fall victim to spatial desires. I will doubt myself only to be the most prideful person I see that day, and will learn to stare myself through the deceitfulness of the mirror...
I do not live a horrible life. I live an overcrowded life with thoughts of revolution and domestication. I prostitute my soul for my ego and then loathe myself because of my inability to override the whims of my will. I think about what it means to build an altar and dig a well. I also think about how not moving is better than moving. Not addressing the unrest in my heart is better than undressing my heart. I think of cool sentences to switch around only so that people will look at me as someone who can manipulate words into clever phrases that fail to do justice to the issue of the heart. I write so I can reread this and pat my own back. The heaviness of desire is too much to bare. If only I could change right?
...if only I could be better... Oh, I might agree that God takes us as we are, and I tell myself that after I blame HIM for the way I am, only to feel guilty for my inability to simply believe.
And you know the times that you really do feel humbled and at peace, those days where the impossibility of change only makes you hope more...those days are so few and far between that the chasm seems to lengthen. An abyss has formed inside my heart - faith, hope, and love do not remember the quiet walks in the garden they once took together. Compassion and Justice remember only better times.
...Or so it all seems in my heart. Pessimism feels so adequate when you think of how to describe this. I don't know if I like that word. Maybe I like to leave it nameless so that when it comes again I can wallow in self-pity just enough that someone notices and pays me some warped compliment that I think will set me free.
I crucified you. I yelled it in the streets of my heart. I reached back through time and turned that palm branch into a veil to hide the gruesomeness of your crucifixion. I denied you three times. I ran to Ninevah. I condemned the adulterous women. I received new life at the well. and I died in order to gain you.
The pure fact that I exist causes me to remember why I hate you and love you at the same time. Why my hate is not really hate, but simply disguised confusion.
Can you cause me to see again? I think I have lost my way, Jesus, I am just a small child that winces when he sees the light - especially when that light causes him to let go of his fear of the darkness. | | |
| So it is a new year, and I dont know what to think of it so far. I know I want this year to marked by real change in heart and attitude. I want to be so much more selfless. Because I havent been as of late. I havent really been anything. Renewal. Rebirth. I hope those can define the coming months. I hope i can make some real decisions, and can hear the voice of The One Who is in Control. I pray my heart is quiet enough to hear Him speak. I pray that I can rightly respond, because lately, I dont know where I have been. I havent heard anything in a long time. noise noise noise, thats all that echos around me, background music to my life. | | |
| I feel so lost. I feel like I am drowning. It is surreal. Everything seems so meaningless, yet I subscribe to it anyway. Why should I care what so-and-so does at such-and-such a time when in the end it will be consumed? I am spinning in circles, living my life for certain times that have already come or are supposedly coming and between then two, I can hardly focus on what I am doing right now.] This sounds like such a joke, like something I would hear on 99x. Where is this break from the mould? Where is this understanding that I have no earthly entitlement? | | |
| O, little eyes, you can see some big things. O, little heart, you can grasp some large things, but these little hands are almost incapable of accomplishing anything big, let alone good annd right. I know that "we can do no great things, just little things with great love." But as much as you "know" something it is still really hard to know it. My heart and my eyes are bound to something that was once good, and has no been turned to evil. It is still good in context, but it is a demon that haunts me and many of my brothers. I sound so distant now, I sound so far away. Can anyone hear me? Again my discontent for myself shines through in my discontedness for the world. And all I can think about is if "discontent" is a word and if people will notice the difference or not. All I seem to know is the wide road, and all I can feel is failure. But prideful failure. I dont know how to describe it, you just know it. Dear Old Self,
I really thought you were dead. One day you will stop rearing your ugly head. Or will you? " The last sad squires ride slowly towards the sea
And a new people take the land: And still it is not we."
- G.K. Chesterton God, I just long for a simple, obediant heart. And what I have is this cynical, unhappy, rambling, mind. Either way you choose me. I am too weak to have chosen You. | | |
| Now that I have expressed this frustration in a ramble of words, I will now try and elaborate. One of the most important things to me in this life is not turning into everything I hate. I feel angry inside toward the church, toward my community, and towards myself. Where does the answer lie? I have been reading through the Gospel of Matthew. In Irresistible Revolution, Shane Claiborne says that the Gospel messed him up. I want to get messed up. I really do. I want change to sprout inside my being. I want this discontent and anger to be covered in love, and to be used for the glory of God, which in the end, despite how it is carried out, will do such a thing. I believe the Spirit to have a special plan for me, which i have been begging God to reveal, and I havent even caught a glimpse. Perhaps I have been too blind to see it. I pray my eyes are opened. I have all this energy, passionless passion, frustration deep in my belly. I want it to come out and eat away the flesh, and for the Spirit to be revealed. Do I even have that power? In Christ? I am a joint heir to His throne. Oh Father, forgive me. My tongue aches to be used, my bones ache to be used, my mind aches to be renewed. | | |
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