I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
where does my help come from? Psalm
121:1
It is one of those days.
It feels like the earth is tilted and that if I am not careful I might
slip and fall off the face of the earth.
I am tired, and the knot in the pit of my stomach has been there since I
woke up, and will be there when I go to sleep. There is something that is
keeping me from going running through the streets yelling, cause that I was I
want to do. Maybe it is God who keeps me
in check?
At lunch I
talk with my friend, and realize the bind that I am put in. My faith in
scripture is shaky at best – really I think it is a bunch of made up stories
that have no moral or morals. And yet my faith in Christ is as strong as ever. A
contradiction that is kind of mind numbing.
So verses
that tell me that everything will be okay, are countered with the reality that
no in fact, shitty things happen to good people. I am a person, and shitty things can, have
and will happen to me.
So the game
plan for the day is to gently put one foot in front of the other as I make my
way to the hope that is tomorrow. Yes, I
know the clichés, when only have today, and I should squeeze as much enjoyment
out of the day as I can. But there is no
hope today, and my victory will lay in the fact that I finished it.
I am
overwhelmed. And I am kind of
embarrassed by it. At my age, I think I
should have a better handle on things.
But I have so often felt overwhelmed in my life. To be overwhelmed is to be tired, anxious,
angry and depressed all at the same time.
And to be
honest, I am tired of people. I am tired
of the sick shit we do to each other. I
am tired of how complicated we make things.
And while I can muster compassion, it is much more edgy than it is
caring – but for today it will have to do.
It would
help, at least I think it would, if I had the kind of faith that I see in
others. At least some others. I wish I could muster faith that all will
work out as God intends. I wish there
was a plan that defies explanation. But
I don’t think there is. I think God’s
plan for my life is that I keep breathing long enough to see what tomorrow
might bring.
But as I sit here, typing this, the spirit of God seems to
come upon me. Does God visit those who
speak in profanity? But there is not
reassurance, but comfort. Comfort that I
am not broken, that my grief, which runs deep these days, ties me to others
that have been lost this month, and those who loved them. The sense, maybe it is a voice, feeling,
thought, is that there has been some fucked up aspects of life that I have
encountered over the last few weeks; and that to feel raw is to experience
life.
I am reminded
that Jesus wept on a number of occasions.
I wonder if he, the lord of all, felt overwhelmed?
As I write
this, my day is not over. My kid will
have the subway experience for dinner. I
will be out tracking down a man that teaches me just how fragile life is. If we find him, and if he gets in my car, I
will be able to smell him for a few days.
Plastic seat covers and febreeze only goes so far.
The struggle for me this day is not that God has abandoned
me, although it feels that way. The
struggle is that I want life to be different.
And it is not. My seeking for
comfort is a thinly guised plea for God to give me what I want; as if I know
how the universe should be organized.
So today, my
faith is trusting that what I have in my life right now, is what is supposed to
be there. My faith today is trudging
from one foot to the next trusting that tomorrow will be brighter and give me a
better perspective on my life. My faith
today, was going about my business, trusting that this is what I have been
called to do.
God has
helped me; he has not carried me. Maybe
my strength has not come from him, but I think my encouragement has. For he has partnered with me in my angst.
My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth. Psalm
121:2
No comments:
Post a Comment