Thoughts: Temporary Ground

Finite beings with finite feelings, is there really any love in us at all? We claim to love, put it on a pedestal, give it names spoke in whisper. But do those names mean anything? Because our love isn’t valid unless it’s bought for 5.95 out of a People magazine. Our sex isn’t good enough out side of a Cosmopolitan dream.

Living in a world where I can’t express how I feel towards others. Not a single word of encouragement or beauty or it’ll be awkward. Can’t tell a woman she’s beautiful, can’t tell a man he’s admired.

It’s not that we don’t want the attention. That’s all we ever want is attention. “But with strings attached? That’s absurd!” Always thought of but never heard. Ultron couldn’t have said it better, funny how a made up animatron can be so human. More human than most I’d say, because at least he’s honest.

Strings: what a thing. Connection. We can’t handle that. “You want to tell me that I matter? You want to tell me that I’m loved? How can you parade around such infinite claims when my death’s just around the corner? Crafted from the same explosion as the stars, we’re just star dust. And even eons from now, stars still burn out.”

How abysmal. How tragic. How selfish. We can’t even accept love because we’re afraid we’ll lose it. You want to talk about temporary ground, well we’re all standing on it. The claims you stand on are just as temporary as the dirt. Funny how we can be offered something so beautiful, a soft kiss on the cheek, a summer’s eve spent by the pond, holding-hands on the train as the sun streaks through our hair, a cool real bow on a gift someone went out of their way to get you, words about how lovely we are from the lips of someone we respect and love, yet we can’t accept those things because then we would mean something. And when we mean something what we do has worth. It has weight. It has consequence.

“Well what if we get hurt? What if we cause the pain? What if we’re left out in the rain, sitting by the fields where we play ball? What if our hearts are broken?”

So what if?

“Then let’s break everyone else’s heart first. Keep your veins filled with your own sentiments. Keep your words to yourself. I’ll keep you 12 inches away, so when I need you I can use you. But when it’s all said and done, I’ll get out my ruler, and at 12 inches you’ll stay. Cut you out of my life so I don’t have to feel the pain of knowing you love me. Out of my sight so I don’t have to remember that I was worth something to someone, so I have nothing to lose.”

I know we’re stuck on temporary ground, but why does that have to be so lonely? Why can’t I tell you that I love you, why can’t we make mistakes?  Why can’t things be awkward? Why can’t we sort it out? Why do I have to suffer with not being a part of your life? If there’s one thing that Christ has taught me, and one thing I know is true, is that he is not temporary. “Everything is temporary, except for Christ, and that’s what I’m clinging to.”

Those words give purpose to everything. In Christ everything is infinite. Through him, I don’t have to worry about loss, I don’t have to fear consequence. Such beautiful words from the mouth of such a gorgeous person. Someone who’s always spoken life into me when I’ve needed it, especially when they didn’t know I needed it. Someone who is so dear and so infinitely wonderful.

Make things weird. Let people know how much they mean to you. Don’t live in a calloused world, we have enough pain without people numbing it out of their thoughts. Feeling is a great thing, don’t let others fade like the McFly’s in Back to the Future. Sometimes heartbreak will happen, but heartbreak creates heartache, and heartache leads to passion for a better world. Love is a hard path, but it’s the only path that actually leads somewhere.


Thoughts: A Scatterplot Faith in a Straight Line World

You said you want to hear my story, well that’s fine. I’ve told it so many times, pedaling it for nickels and dimes, believing that’s what it’s worth. Some spare change. I could spare change, there’s so much it’s fluid. Never having a single constant, never feeling at home. I thought I had it a few times, warmed my feet at the hearth at the promise of safety emblazoned my face and pierced my bones. It was just enough to feel at peace, just enough to feel released, just enough for some relief. But soon it was back out into the dark, back out into a void of lamplight and concrete. 

I often tell myself it’s my fault. You’re the one who can’t stay. They’re right when they say you’re flighty. They’re right when they say you don’t belong. You’re love wasn’t needed and it sure as hell wasn’t wanted. Did you truly believe your Christ was worth following? Look at where you are now: cursed to wander and wander. Christ had no place for you on this earth. You had no comfort in store. 

No community. 

No constants.

And I’ll believe every word I’ll tell myself, because that’s all I’m hearing. That’s all that’s reinforced around me. I don’t want that to be true.

Is it selfish to want a home? Is it selfish to want to be wanted? To want to throw off every weight of sin? To want to endure but not be able to? I’ve been running this race for so long, yes I know I haven’t shed blood, and yes I know you’ve called me son, but damn it, I’m so tired.

I can’t be honest with you because it’s not seemly, I can’t wear a mask because it’s not honest. Caught in the middle of some sort of existential keep-away, always the monkey in the middle. You throw the ball too high, how can anyone expect to catch it? Then when we’re fed up with playing we’re shunned.

Jesus why would you love this lot?

Why would you love me?

I’ve been told so many times that I drag your name through the mud. Told I’m a bad influence. That I’m a bad Christian.

When can I be loved for being honest? When can I say that I’m suffering and feel like it matters? When can I be human again?

It’s so hard to have so much knowledge about you. I see who you are, but when I put that into action I become a monster.

Can you be more than just words on a page? Can you be more than just subjective theology where you’re only one thing to one person with one goal and one dimension? Where’d your mystery go? Didn’t you know, we figured you out. We’re your God now, and we’ll use you to lord over those we don’t agree with.

I’m not trying to say I’m right. I’m not trying to say others are wrong. I just need to say what I feel.

I’ve been following your voice around for a decade now. Wandering aimlessly on trust, taking the criticisms along the way. I’m just ready to find an address with my name on it. 10 years is a long time to wander. My feet are tired and I need to rest. I remember you said your yoke was easy and your burden light, mine is not, and it feels like it always will be.

Do you know what it’s like to always be sad and never have a way out? I just want to know what it’s like to feel joy and purpose.