Jesus told us
that in the last days, men’s hearts would fail them because of fear. He told us
the love of many would grow cold and we sure are seeing that. I grew up hearing
“Last Days” sermons quite regularly, but I never thought I’d actually live to
see them. At least I hoped I wouldn’t. But apparently I have lived long enough to
witness the final death spiral of mankind.
I don’t know how much longer we have…maybe hundreds of years yet. But
something is very different now. I can
feel my heart being troubled. Jesus told me not to let this happen, but I guess
I’m failing Him on this. I am troubled.
This world is sad. I can’t take watching another beheading and feeling
the pain and the rage boiling inside and then having my face slapped by my “president”
when he does nothing, even admitting that he doesn’t really know what to
do. Everyone else knows what to do, Mr.
President! Everyone. A ten year old could tell you what needs to be
done. When you feel the pain that
something like this brings out, then you have to suppress it because the people
in charge don’t react the way they should…you lose heart. I’m weary from it. This is how I feel today:
I’m weary from watching the world getting
more angry and more violent and more ugly and trying to raise a child in the
middle of all that. I’m weary from
watching The Church grow more and more complacent as she turns her affections from a dying
world to her “own kind,” trading the urgency of the Gospel for the comfort of
the fellowship of the beloved. I’m tired
of Death.
Maybe this all
comes too soon on the heels of the devastation that was the last six years of
my life. Maybe after so many years of living as an animal, trying to merely
survive and not vanish into thin air somehow, I have finally been able to let
my guard down a bit. Perhaps in the dropping of my guard, I am suddenly awash
in the emotion that I had to bury for those six years in the desert. I grieve all I’ve lost. I hurt over the years
I’ve lost with my daughter. I miss my
home, and my dogs and my career. I used
to be necessary. I need to matter to someone.
Now I’m the new
guy, in a new field, learning from the ground up and starting over. I am so very thankful for the new chance, but
I feel lost in the middle of it all. A man needs a purpose and sometimes I
wonder what mine is, beyond being the best dad I can be for my daughter. I feel alive when I write and writing is hard
these days. I’m grinding away on a project for some friends and it is good but
slow and it doesn’t feel inspired. It’s
a story about their love and support for their dying friend. Maybe writing about death isn’t the best
thing for me right now but I have an obligation to finish this thing.
More than
anything…I think I need to go away for a few days as soon as I can. There is 6 years’
worth of hurt bottled up and it’s begun escaping now that it’s safe for it to happen
and I need to go somewhere and let it take place.
I told a friend
of mine yesterday, “You don’t have time to count the grains of sand as they
slip through your fingers, you’re too busy trying to hold on to them. It’s
later…when you turn around and see the size of the pile that you realize how
much you’ve lost. How much time…how much life. How many moments" That's what I'm doing these days...gripping sand and trying to pick up some of the pile.
No comments:
Post a Comment