When the world doesn't make sense,
I want to scream.
Raise my hands in desperation.
Throw a fit worthy of a 2 year old and call it quits.
Hurl anger at a God I don't always understand.
Why is our response to losing control...to lose control? Isn't that what we are reacting to in the first place? Yet it feels good to give in to a sense of impulsive, reckless emotion. There are moments in which I want nothing more than to reach a complete and utter disconnect of mind, body, and heart. Let me writhe in the pain of the suffering, let me burn to my depths with self-pity, anger, angst...the pleasure in the darkest places. I know I can't stay there. I know I should be frightened of giving in...but my sin takes hold and at times shackles me to the very pursuits that cause me the greatest anguish.
Sometimes it gets tiring to live above reproach, to do the right things, to listen well, and obey completely. Sometimes I hate it. On a cognitive level I can verbalize a comprehension of why I don't just do whatever the hell I want...but on a heart level, I often grasp at the thin atmosphere of understanding.
I look around me and see people I love dearly suffering through hardships and losing things that truly matter to them. Friends losing best friends, family members losing jobs, young people losing health, mothers losing sons, people in need getting everything taken from them when they seem to need it most...
And I wonder. When does it all begin to make sense? Why does God operate so much beyond the realm of the world he created us to reside in? Why does he always wish to keep us suffering in the dark? I hate to sound...cynical, typical, small-minded, weak-spirited...but I can't escape the questions that I have always allowed to fade under the all-encompassing blanket of "faith."
If I sound bitter, perhaps I am today. Perhaps for once I am sick of trying to maintain what's "right" while feeling so limited, small, weak. I want the power of God in my life, I want to be used for his purposes...but I am here, waiting, in a season of fog and trials.
Haven't I always been here?
Is my skewed perspective to blame? Are the dark and sinful places of my heart overshadowing the seeds of hope desperately reaching for the sun-filled promises of life?
Why am I wilting when I am trying desperately to grow?
Why am I destroying when I am trying desperately to create?
Why am I dying when I am trying desperately to live?
No life to see, but death resides
Within the realm of finite eyes.
Shackled to the darkest stone
Cold of iron, hollow tone.
Break apart the chains that bind
Release the demons, light to find.
Blood flows out to cancel pain
From earth's departure, freedom came.