Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Remember Thursday Night?

Dear God,

You took the only thing that meant anything to me. How could you? I asked for one thing in this life and still you stole it away while knowing my need. I’m done. I am putting my coat on the hangar, shoes in the closet, and refusing to walk another step. Why me? Was it something I did? Something I said?

My heart was broken. Not by a friend, brother, or lover, but by the one who said he’d love me always. By the one who said he’d be there through the good AND the bad days. What happened that you changed your ways? You were there when I laughed and when I cried. You were there when I told the truth and when I boldly lied. Were you offended by my music? Angered by my TV shows? Should I go to church more? Maybe change my clothes?

I really don’t know, and to be honest I don’t really care. I’ve tried to be fair, to be just, to be kind -but God- you took the only thing that was mine. I basically gave you it all, my entire life. I kept something small, a tiny comfort at night. Was that really so wrong? Are you that hung up on rules? Isn’t that why you corrected those Pharisees, the very men you called fools?

I can’t do this anymore. I cannot play your games. Remember Thursday night when I spoke to you on the floor? That’s the last time I’ll call your name. Things will never be the same. My friends try to comfort me, they say that no one is really to blame; but we both know better than that, for you possess all power. Every day there are thousands of deaths, hundreds every hour. If not your fault then whose? What, the people who sinned? The people born into a reality that they didn’t even choose?

You said that in this life there are two masters, you and that other dude. Well, God, I’ve weighed the pros and cons. Since you lie too, he wins...and you lose.



Dear Son,

I took nothing from you. I did everything that I could do. I asked one thing, your love, but you politely refused. I’m here. I am your God. I may sit on a throne, but I’d love to walk with you. There is nothing you could do, nothing you could say, I’ll be there for you whatever path you take.

My heart is breaking. It’s a ceaseless aching. I love you not as a friend, brother, or lover, but with agape, a love like no other. It was unrequited, given but never returned. Can you imagine how it feels to love endlessly and perfectly and yet still be spurned? We have laughed and we have cried, we have celebrated and mourned, -but Son- you’ve held back.

I watched you fill your life with poison, cloud your own mind with deceit. You were thirsty and hungry, but you only swallowed lies. What need could they possibly meet? I don’t want you to change, and religion is never the answer. It is just a tool that I use, but it can consume like a cancer.

I don’t care for the law, it’s the Spirit behind it. Weren’t you listening when my other son said he was nothing without love? It’s not about the rules, for they could never be enough. You can’t just wear them like a glove. Let me be your all, your tiny comfort at night. When you are alone in the dark forest, let me be your lantern light.

Remember Thursday night when I spoke to you on the floor? When you came to me broken, aching for something more? You called on my name, filed your complaint, acted as if I was to blame. Your brothers and sisters make mistakes along the way, terrible ones, corrupting the lives of millions every week. Thousands every day. As terrible as things seem, if given the option between death and life, we know what most people would choose. That other guy and I don’t compete. There is no win or lose.

It’s hard to hear, but I speak nothing other than the truth. I speak these things for the good of you, one diamond among six billion jewels. I know you’re not perfect, all-knowing, or wise. Though you’re covered in yesterday’s filth, battered, and bruised, I see you daily with a fresh pair of eyes. You are my son: what else could I do?

Remember Thursday night?

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I write to God occasionally, and this is a "correspondence" I had with Him quite some time ago. He speaks to me by giving me words to write A LOT, but rarely is it a "direct" response like this.

I do remember Thursday night, God. I definitely do.

Sunday, January 23, 2011

SIX.ELEVEN

Beaten, bruised, and abused.
Hurt, suffering, and refused.

Given no hope and knowing no light.
A plight that has no end. No “just around the bend”.

Shunned, ostracized, pushed away their entire lives.
Though raised by corruption, still hated for their sin.

So where does one’s humanity finish and the monstrosity begin? Are we not more than the sum of our parts? Does anyone care for crippled minds and broken hearts? Do we need special lenses to tell a person and their sin apart?

Disgusting, atrocious, lowest of the low. Must people live up to a standard for our love to show? Let’s switch gears for a bit. What of your past? Because it was said that if you’ve desired it then you might as well have done it.

But “Hey”, we say, “can’t you give a guy a break? I can’t alter how I think; I can’t erase my past mistakes.” True enough, sir, but there was one who took your place. He willingly paid the price to have all mistakes erased. Yet you pick, and yet you prod at those who have not yet found their way. Then you still possess the audacity to walk up to me and say you are “saved”?

“Violence begets violence” is an oft made claim, but might I suggest that hatred begets hurt and that we all break the same? If “fornication” is the sin then show me where the line between lust and sex begins. Show me where a person’s value dwindles and the depreciation sets in.

Is it inhumane to forgive those who kill? So alien to to love those who hate? That could be your brother, sister, mom, dad. You brother messes up, is sentenced to death, now are you glad? Some say “it’s the law”, “those are the consequences”, or “that’s the price for taking a life”. So now just because the government says it is okay that ultimately makes it right?

When did we begin to confuse darkness with light? To think that death could ever be equated to life? No more switching, let us open our eyes. No more trying to earn grace by belittling the very thing God labored to actualize. We are finished hiding behind lies like we’re politicians of wrong and right. We are through with thinking that killing is the only way to put up a fight. We will hit rock bottom but refuse to curse our persecutors. We will be shoved to the ground yet deny our “right” to hate the perpetrator.

We were beaten and refused. We were hurt and abused. We were shunned and ostracized. We were disgusting, the lowest of the low. Now we are by your side, yet hated, despised by many, and rightly so. It’s only natural that purity be spurned by the corrupt. Just remember that His love is enough and it runs from a spring that will never dry up.

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Pulled from the theme found throughout 1 Corinthians, the album Mutemath, and the dark recesses of my mind.