Yet... Not At All

I could be pretentious

Oh, I could do it oh so well

I could take the blame for all your pain

And tell you I cracked the Liberty Bell

Just hypothesizing

It's so close to justifying

Yet not at all

Steeped it a quagmire of pop culture fizz

I believe this makes me eclectic

Perhaps even eccentric

Yet not at all

I down pounds of processed sugar everyday

I say it's for a reason

The feeling

That I get when I actually ingest healthy food makes it all worth it

Yet not at all

I consume a steady diet of socially acceptable violence

In the form of words and pixels

Socially acceptable being key phrase

Yet not at all

I think that I have something relevant to say

Something that will affect you

Perhaps radically change your perspective on life

What did I say about being pretentious?

Yet not at all

Am I defined by this hopeless quest for self-gratification and validation?

Am I compelled to be this quivering mess of reaching, grasping introspection?

Am I finished?

No, not at all

Praise God from Whom all blessings flow

Praise Him all creatures here below

Praise Him above ye heavenly host

Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost

And that is all

Rain

If there is one thing that I miss about the northwest... it is water. Really big water. There is so much contained in water. I think often times that it is the closest thing we have to a perfect metaphor for God. It is essential. It is powerful. It is everywhere. We die without it. We can be killed with it in a million different equally horrifying ways. We love it. We are terrified by it.

So now, out here in Idaho there is so little of it. We get bits of it in snow, but for some reason that just isn't good enough for me. I want more. I want oceans of the stuff. Torrential down pours. Endless waves pounding a rhythmic time upon the shore. Hurricanes even!

But here there is none of that. Not rain, not storm, not sea. I feel kind of like I am drying up.

My brain quotes pithy sayings in retort to my complaints. "Grow where you're planted."

Am I looking for the wrong kind of water? Am I neglecting the water of my baptism? The water of the Spirit? Where is it? Have I hidden it deep in my heart? In the deep crevices, that nothing can penetrate? Have I buried the water of hope and love and peace so deep that I am actually having trouble drinking from the well?

Dear Lord, I can't dig anymore. I am parched, I am longing for something more than a pill to get me through the day. I need something that lasts... forever. You've given it to me already, but I keep losing it. Totally my fault. I seem to be so horrible at water retention. Plug up the holes, please God. I don't want to leak anymore. Keep me filled with your grace, and the pure joy that comes not of circumstances... but of You.

Amen
&
Amen!

JSTT

The peace that passes understanding

It only comes with Sunday mornings, reading CS Lewis, laughing with friends, eating good food, working hard...

...in short, it comes with a change in perspective.

JSTT