I know it's been a while, but I finally feel ready to finish this.
We couldn't even convince ourselves to try.
You couldn't even remember the way home.
I couldn't even pick myself up.
They couldn't even defend themselves from their own mental accusations.
It couldn't even see in front of its own nose.
He couldn't even allow himself to mourn.
She couldn't even talk to herself.
That's where we all find ourselves. We are lonely, sorrowful, furious, guilty, stranded, desperate failures. There's no hope for us. We're sad wrecks, and we know it.
But what if I told you that there is hope? This hope is Jesus. When you embrace His Truth, you realize that the answers to life are much more simple than our problems make them seem.
She couldn't even talk to herself. Jesus took her loneliness and whispered Belonging.
He couldn't even allow himself to mourn. Jesus replaced his sorrow and let him cry tears of Joy.
It couldn't even see in front of its own nose. Jesus stole away its rage and allowed it to see Love.
They couldn't even defend themselves from their own mental accusations. Jesus forgave their guilt and gave the full Pardon.
I couldn't even pick myself up. Jesus drowned my failure and made me Victorious.
You couldn't even remember the way home. Jesus picked you up, stranded, and gave you a Home.
We couldn't even convince ourselves to try. Jesus took our desperation and spoke conviction to us, giving us Courage.
What's beautiful about this truth is that we don't come to Jesus as blank slates. We come with all our past, all our history and reputation, and Jesus turns it around. What was meant for Evil, He uses for good.
No matter what your plight, your sin, your problem, Jesus knows about it better than you do, and he sees how you can serve others with that. This is why it's important to note that we are not worthless. We are unworthy, yes. But not worthless. God uses what we are (remember: He made us!) to bless others!
Sunday, April 08, 2007
Saturday, April 07, 2007
Dramatis Personae (Part Shichi)
Have you ever given up? We gave up. We knew that we couldn't make it, so why waste the energy?
Life had dealt us a stiff hand. We knew that no matter what we did, how we lived, we'd die anyway. We thought of our friend. Healthy as a horse into old age. Drank eight glasses of water a day. Swallowed a tablespoonful of cod liver oil. Ran ten miles. Did a hundred sit-ups and push-ups before and after running. And then cancer came and took our friend, forced us to watch a slow and painful death- and this was someone that had done it right.
So, we figured. What the hell? If our friend didn't drink or smoke or eat unhealthily or party all night and still died, what difference did it make if we abstained from all those? Health just wasn't a good enough reason.
So we went out. We drank ourselves silly. We smoked in spades. We partied. We didn't care what we ate, or when, or how much. It was futile anyway. Why grow old and die slowly when we could die young and quickly? Who really cared anyway?
But it wasn't good enough for us either. We needed a greater reason to live. Life was not about who could make it to the grave the fastest, nor was it about who could avoid it the longest. It was about living well the time allotted to us.
But we didn't know how to do that. Our ideas all seemed too small for such a piddly unremarkable existence. So we quit. We gave up.
We got stable jobs. We got married. We had children. We went to book clubs and tee ball. And then one morning, we woke up and found that our lives had past us by. The life we had been so eager to begin living was gone. Forever. Despair closed its cold fingers around our throats.
Despair.
Finally our generation could understand the word. So desperate, in fact, that we couldn't even convince ourselves to try.
FIN
(Or is it?)
_____________________________________________________
Breaking the continuity for a moment, I feel I must share this. D turned me on to Writer's Almanac, and I immediately looked up the listing for my birthday this year. Here is what was published that day (I thinks it's very me):
Poems: "Essential" and "Employed" by Beverly Rollwagen, from She Just Wants.
Essential
She just wants to keep her essentia
lsorrow. Everyone wants her to
be happy all the time, but she doesn't
want that for them. There is value in
the thread of sadness in each person.
The sobbing child on an airplane, the
unhappy woman waiting by the phone,
a man staring out the window past his wife.
A violin plays through all of them,
one long note held at the beginning and
the end.
Employed
She just wants to be employed
for eight hours a day. She is not
interested in a career; she wants a job
with a paycheck and free parking. She
does not want to carry a briefcase filled
with important papers to read after
dinner; she does not want to return
phone calls. When she gets home, she
wants to kick off her shoes and waltz
around her kitchen singing, "I am a piece
of work."
Life had dealt us a stiff hand. We knew that no matter what we did, how we lived, we'd die anyway. We thought of our friend. Healthy as a horse into old age. Drank eight glasses of water a day. Swallowed a tablespoonful of cod liver oil. Ran ten miles. Did a hundred sit-ups and push-ups before and after running. And then cancer came and took our friend, forced us to watch a slow and painful death- and this was someone that had done it right.
So, we figured. What the hell? If our friend didn't drink or smoke or eat unhealthily or party all night and still died, what difference did it make if we abstained from all those? Health just wasn't a good enough reason.
So we went out. We drank ourselves silly. We smoked in spades. We partied. We didn't care what we ate, or when, or how much. It was futile anyway. Why grow old and die slowly when we could die young and quickly? Who really cared anyway?
But it wasn't good enough for us either. We needed a greater reason to live. Life was not about who could make it to the grave the fastest, nor was it about who could avoid it the longest. It was about living well the time allotted to us.
But we didn't know how to do that. Our ideas all seemed too small for such a piddly unremarkable existence. So we quit. We gave up.
We got stable jobs. We got married. We had children. We went to book clubs and tee ball. And then one morning, we woke up and found that our lives had past us by. The life we had been so eager to begin living was gone. Forever. Despair closed its cold fingers around our throats.
Despair.
Finally our generation could understand the word. So desperate, in fact, that we couldn't even convince ourselves to try.
FIN
(Or is it?)
_____________________________________________________
Breaking the continuity for a moment, I feel I must share this. D turned me on to Writer's Almanac, and I immediately looked up the listing for my birthday this year. Here is what was published that day (I thinks it's very me):
Poems: "Essential" and "Employed" by Beverly Rollwagen, from She Just Wants.
Essential
She just wants to keep her essentia
lsorrow. Everyone wants her to
be happy all the time, but she doesn't
want that for them. There is value in
the thread of sadness in each person.
The sobbing child on an airplane, the
unhappy woman waiting by the phone,
a man staring out the window past his wife.
A violin plays through all of them,
one long note held at the beginning and
the end.
Employed
She just wants to be employed
for eight hours a day. She is not
interested in a career; she wants a job
with a paycheck and free parking. She
does not want to carry a briefcase filled
with important papers to read after
dinner; she does not want to return
phone calls. When she gets home, she
wants to kick off her shoes and waltz
around her kitchen singing, "I am a piece
of work."
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Dramatis Personae (Part Sita)
Have you ever known better? You knew better. Every bone in your body told you not to, but you ignored it. You wanted it. It loomed before you like the great city of Oz. Only less green. You put your rose-colored glasses on with relish and stepped forward.
Soon, you were clawing at the wall.s of that city which had seemed to promise you everything you'd dreamed of. It was suffocating.
You found yourself walking the streets of the city, in the rain. The darkness seemed to consume you. Everything you had worked for, everything you'd expected, was stripped away from you and here you were: alone, naked, freezing in the acid rain of the very place that held all your dreams.
You couldn't get out; you were in too deep now. Your heart pounded heavily and breathing became harder. Your true desires were for nothing more than food, air, shelter. But your wants- oh, they were so much more.
It wasn't fair! Some people got all the glory, all the luck, all the good fortune. The nice houses, the great cars, the fabulous jobs, the loving spouses. All you ever got was a rent receipt and another student loan bill. You'd done just as much as they had! You'd poured your soul into it! Why did you always get the short end of the stick when other people were so stinking lucky?
You couldn't help feeling deserted in the world, as if no one could understand your yearning for more. There had to be more to life than working yourself to death. You felt like you'd been driven out to the desert and stranded there.
Stranded.
The meaning of the word struck an uncomfortable chord in your heart. So stranded, in fact, that you couldn't even remember the way home.
Soon, you were clawing at the wall.s of that city which had seemed to promise you everything you'd dreamed of. It was suffocating.
You found yourself walking the streets of the city, in the rain. The darkness seemed to consume you. Everything you had worked for, everything you'd expected, was stripped away from you and here you were: alone, naked, freezing in the acid rain of the very place that held all your dreams.
You couldn't get out; you were in too deep now. Your heart pounded heavily and breathing became harder. Your true desires were for nothing more than food, air, shelter. But your wants- oh, they were so much more.
It wasn't fair! Some people got all the glory, all the luck, all the good fortune. The nice houses, the great cars, the fabulous jobs, the loving spouses. All you ever got was a rent receipt and another student loan bill. You'd done just as much as they had! You'd poured your soul into it! Why did you always get the short end of the stick when other people were so stinking lucky?
You couldn't help feeling deserted in the world, as if no one could understand your yearning for more. There had to be more to life than working yourself to death. You felt like you'd been driven out to the desert and stranded there.
Stranded.
The meaning of the word struck an uncomfortable chord in your heart. So stranded, in fact, that you couldn't even remember the way home.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Dramatis Personae (Part Cinque)
Have you ever been lost? I was lost. Completely and utterly lost. I had a degree, but nothing useful to do with it. I had friends, but didn't feel particularly close to them- not close enough to open up. I had a boyfriend, but that very quickly proved to be a volatile situation.
So while my state of being may have seemed fairly stable, my internal gauge knew otherwise and six months later my life blew into a complete disarray.
I wasn't going to teach. My friends deserted me. My boyfriend callously broke my heart. I felt so lost. Like I had been going in the right direction and then I took the wrong exit off the freeway. Now I was stranded in East LA with no one to ask for directions and an even bigger void in the realm of people who would listen to my plight.
My white knuckles closed around the steering wheel when THAT song came on. I lost it. Leaning forward and resting my head against the wheel, I began to cry. I cried for hours, sitting there, letting it all eke out slowly. I was a failure.
Failure.
It was a word I'd heard but now it had personal meaning. I should just give up now, I thought. No one will love me. I'm never going to amount to anything. Such a failure, in fact, that I couldn't even pick myself up.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Five parts are done: two more to go and then we get our resolution! Hoorah!
So while my state of being may have seemed fairly stable, my internal gauge knew otherwise and six months later my life blew into a complete disarray.
I wasn't going to teach. My friends deserted me. My boyfriend callously broke my heart. I felt so lost. Like I had been going in the right direction and then I took the wrong exit off the freeway. Now I was stranded in East LA with no one to ask for directions and an even bigger void in the realm of people who would listen to my plight.
My white knuckles closed around the steering wheel when THAT song came on. I lost it. Leaning forward and resting my head against the wheel, I began to cry. I cried for hours, sitting there, letting it all eke out slowly. I was a failure.
Failure.
It was a word I'd heard but now it had personal meaning. I should just give up now, I thought. No one will love me. I'm never going to amount to anything. Such a failure, in fact, that I couldn't even pick myself up.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Five parts are done: two more to go and then we get our resolution! Hoorah!
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