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...