A Pause for Self-Reflection

The Boston Marathon was literally blown up last week. As of this writing, one of the bombers is dead, while the other is in the capable(?) hands of the FBI. Three people have been confirmed dead, including an 8-year-old boy. The news outlets, now that the excitement and bloodshed has come to a conclusion, have been trumpeting the stories of their lives in the most melodramatic way possible.   I cannot watch. I don't want to know who they were. I don't want to know their hopes and dreams, their plans for the future, the friends and family left behind. It's not that I lack compassion; it's that dwelling upon their pain fills me with a sense of hopelessness and rage. I cannot cope with it. I want to lash out at the world, and at God, not just for the injustice that they have suffered, but, sadly enough, for the pain and sorrow I have endured as well.   Is that selfishness on my part? Of course. Is it indicative of a lack of faith? I don't know. I feel like the disciples did when they were terrified of the storm, of the waves smashing their boat to bits, and so they wake Jesus and ask him to calm the seas. He does, and then proceeds to rebuke the disciples for thinking they were in danger in the first place.   Sometimes I feel like a man in the wilderness I'm a lonely sailor lost at sea Drifting with the tide Never quite knowing why Sometimes it makes no sense at all   That's me. Except in my case, I can't get the sleeping Jesus to wake up.   This is of course foolishness on my part. Jesus, or rather the Holy Spirit, is wide awake and watching my every move, providing guidance and protection, and telling me I am loved and safe in the Father's arms. I just wish I could hear his voice.   I hear the world just fine. I hear it telling me that it's okay to satisfy my own wants and desires, no matter who gets hurt in the process. I hear it telling me that I better get what I can out of life now, because my only shot of happiness in the future depends on it. I hear it telling me that to wait on the Lord means missing out on life. I hear it calling me to abandon (again) principles I once took pride in. Honesty. Integrity. Truth.   The world lies. Listening to those lies only leads to guilt, bitterness, and self-loathing. I can't do it anymore.   Once again, I vow to put my burdens in a big box, wrapped in shiny paper with a pretty bow on top, and leave the whole mess at the altar. Here Jesus, you deal with it.   It's not the first time I've done this. It won't be the last.   Good thing nobody reads this blog...

Bad Habits

The Devil made me do it

That's always the excuse

Every time I turn my back on you

But the fault is wholly mine

Whenever I choose

To do the things you don't want me to do

I don't know why I do

All the things to disappoint you

And I don't know why you love me anyway

 

(When) I fall into the same old bad habits

The same old bad choices

The same mistakes and compromises

That I always make

But you tell me I'm forgiven

And your arms are open wide

And you give me all the love that I can take

 

I'm tired of living with the guilt

That eats me up inside

When I think of all the bad things I have done

All the promises I've broken

All the truth that I denied

And every consequence from which I've run

So excuse me if I have

A little trouble understanding

Why you would even give me the time of day

 

There is nothing I can do

To make amends for hurting you

How can I say I'm sorry when

I know I'll do it all again

Apologies aren't good enough

To make me worthy of your love

But you give it anyway

And I don't know what to say