pandora's box

the ills, the tills, the sadness, the sick. 

hopeless driven by hope. 

penance after overt penance. mistaken for the genuine. await, now young tension dealer. patience young tiller, but fight. 

greeks the jewish precursor. or greek the embodiment of the directive? the director silenced. knowing the misleading; misunderstanding, we approach the impossible. a tension inescapable. t'what echoes the reality, or t'what reality echoes the beheld?

and beheld, i can not behold. 

but extend from an extension of ambiguous confusion. and confusion i can not disguise without pretense; hesitance to relay that which can not be simplified, but to the stupefied. or so i say? and what i say? what? t'what? t'where? to do. i can not do. because the capitalistic method with which i act remains a counteract culturally, relatively. and relative i can not formulate. at odds. 

and director, i ask:

?

and director you exclaim:    .

winning a battle, losing a war

ii

winning a battle, losing the war. losing the war. losing the war. 

nauseous without description. hopeful without realization. 

Even though I'll never need her, 

even though she's only giving me pain, 

I'll be on my knees to feed her, 

spend a day to make her smile again 

Even though I'll never need her, 

even though she's only giving me pain 

As the world is soft around her, 

leaving me with nothing to disdain. 

Even though I'm not her minder, 

even though she doesn't want me around, 

I am on my feet to find her, 

to make sure that she is safe and sound. 

Even though I'm not her minder, 

even though she doesn't want me around, 

I am on my feet to find her, 

to make sure that she is safe from harm. 

The sun sets on the war, the day breaks and everything is new...

finite.

laziness breeds apathy. apathy gives way to renouncement. 

seeking breathes confusion. confusion gives way to renouncement. 

choice seems choice less. 

left corner creepo.

Marriage

Ode to the thoughts of a young and seemingly naive trespasser...

redemption. "His love", hope, etc. 

I listen to friends. I attend shows. I share in conversation, and always falter back to a perspective, or to a tension of belief. Belief is the catalyst for action. Lately, of nay I say to action. 

If you do not believe in immortality, more I say, in the absolute redemptive and spiritual fulfillment that occurs after this life-this present life, these present circumstances have limitations in actions and thoughts. If you do not care to give rise or to challenge pain by our belittled understanding of hope-a simple, common, redundant vernacular-then choosing to follow the teachings of Christ and of what is understood (although not without interpretation)-this life will falter, will fail to be rewarding. Complaints of God's silence will ring ever more powerfully because we are waiting for some kind of spiritual fulfillment, full excitement, complete satisfaction, on earth. If you do not believe in an eternity, or, choose another word that can more powerfully surrender tot he acclaim of redemption, then you will forever be praying to a cloud, of non-existence, of silence. You will forever be struggling with a life of oppression, repression. Because this life that Christ offers, or demands, exudes waiting-patience. It is, if  under a limited perspective, oppressing. 

To follow, to parallel Him seems to defy that which is common to man, the natural desires of both body and mind. Although sounding arrogant-what I mean to say is that, in terms of something as simply complex as sexuality, following what God says seems oppressing-causing man to repress certain desires, or to not act fully upon. (One question I ask. According to Christians, what or how does one live as a fully holy, but sexual being, obedient to Him?) 

The Christian life, if you don't trust fully in an engaging, spiritually fulfilling, and loving God, is simply talking to a cloud, following the next ant to the sanded hill, on a diet of celery sticks and pickles. If eternity is not our waiting and hope not our present occupation, then obedience in this life is formidably exhausting and preludes a repentance of doctrine. 

Question. And what is obedience? What is obedience in America, a land of freedom and apathy? But the double check, triple check to a fervent desire to know and trust and live in this beautiful life only offered through Him. How confused with behaviorism. Redemption sold on morality, spirituality excluded. 

He, and I say He not without fear of epistemology, has given an inescapable force, at least to my present knowledge, that two powers are at work. I can say good and evil-but in a culture of emergence and of epistemological lighthouses that will not persuade the Socratic, yet still Euclidean, mind. Perhaps justice and injustice? (Numbers of this day hate right versus wrong-but I feel no need to simply accommodate the reader's socialized attitude of temperance in relation with justice.) All to say, I see in my life two forces at work, two desires--and it is an exhausting tension. Can be or has been. 

Last night I realized that there are two things I questions. Two ideas I can not sufficiently marry. There are two things I question primarily, but I will counter or confuse with questions of seemingly philosophical thought. Eh, not always, but at times. 

They are as simple and as seemingly ignorant as these: Is God good, or is He psychologically, manipulatively egocentric, which in my arrogant mind is evil? And, if He is good, does He really, could He really, how do I know He really loves me? 

Trust that an academia stemmed from protestant thought has shed wisdom on the belief and saving hope, they call it, of the cross. But, at times, that mammal-like, evolutionary cling has lead me to a fear of manipulation. 

If God is good, and if I believe He really loves me-(meaning what?)-then I can follow Him in times that seem oppressing, silent, or manipulative. Because the only thing at stake then is either my arrogance or my ignorance. If He is not good and if He does not love, then this present life will be one of either cultural accommodation or pragmatic, Christian-legislative, oppression, devoid of spirituality.  

From these two beliefs stem an array of questions, thoughts, valleys, struggles. I would say that my struggle is the latter of these questions--it is one of value to an infinite creator. If I understand the process of salvation correctly-then I am not now questioning a need for a Savior-if, again, I am following the process of Christian salvation. 

Due to past wickedness and present struggle, the seemingly manipulative need for a Savior is not dimmed by a pompous power in an ability to follow correctly. The need, "my need", is rampant. (Which is precisely why it seems manipulative). 

However, aside from my wondering if, because of my "sin" He could really love and forgive and justify me, I am asking on a completely rational basis...(as if anything can be completely rational.) 

I am not simply "over that" but am, rather, excluding it momentarily. Not excluding. Eh, All to say, I love, if what the Bible says is true, that He came for the scum. I am,  not due to neglect or passivity or negative esteem, that scum. I am that scum--in it's greatest capacity. (Not a matter of feigned humility either).

The question is not one of need. Tis rather, one of simple misunderstanding. Does the God, creator of the cosmos, across generations, royal over time--does that God truly and belovedly love me? (I've read the christianism ish you'll throw at me).

But does He really? Does He really care about me? Insignificant me? Dying me? Passing me?

(and it is my hope that this is not some simple flip flop of arrogance running in parallel, only with a facade of humility). 

But it almost seems silly and contradictory that the God of the Universe loves someone as temporary as me. That means, if I believe what God and the Bible profess--that He is not only bringing glory to Himself through creation(at times at the expense of earthly joys in my life and the lives of others), but while, He is simultaneously loving and caring and pouring His sweetest sacrifice (which is such a bizarre concept present day) out for me. If He loves me and is bringing glory to Himself--it leaves me in a frustrating mystery of absolute awe and confusion at the dual risk and dual choice-while, of course, that alludes to my limited cognition. 

I can hardly combine power and glory with that of something as simple as carpenter, Jewish love. It seems in limbo. A striking contradiction. To say that all this is for "his glory," and to throw out terms of his endearment towards man, seem in complete and utter contradiction when examining the temporary and dying world. These two beliefs are in limbo, seemingly. 

Yet, I falter it as madness or as truth. 

And if truth, I believe it as the maddest and wildest story ever written. And if truth, I believe it as the only one. 

---now you'll ask about islam, hindu, buddhist beliefs. etc. 

Every great math problem seems an addition to a simple prerequisite. Which, I must understand a matter in simplest terms before building a procession of claims-otherwise my claims are ignorant, and hypocritical. (While a bit of ignorance is fundamental to belief in the faith of Jesus). Some call that the beauty of faith. I call it an abuse of loving God with all your heart, soul, and mind. It is loving God, at times, absent of the mind. Ah, but erase this end, as it is justification for my epistemological simplicity, and a passive aggression towards an apathetic generation of church-goers and quota fulfilling "Christians." 

Oh, marriage. 

a grouped maybe

Maybe what I am hoping for doesn't exist. I ask that question- what do I hope for? Maybe, by chance, I'm hoping for the wrong things. Maybe what I'm waiting for is misunderstood. Maybe my waiting is all ready acquainted with what is actual. I'm waiting for some kind of earthly restoration, for some kind of strengthening period. Maybe that's not what redemption, really, is about. Maybe my life and the lives of others having powerfully good outcomes is not, really, why I am here. I'm coming more and more to believe that this life, or that my "obedience" is not about me. (Its tough to explain fully without relaying the thoughts preluding this). I don't know if goodness from God is going to mean having a family restored on earth. I don't know if His goodness can be categorized by removing painfully abusive experiences. I don't know if I believe that restoration means having a life pieced together on the terms that I perceive as just or unjust, right or wrong. I think my ideas of what I need or what I think would move towards restoration are wrong. I guess I am coming more and more to believe that "restoration" or "redemption" applies solely to the tension that existed between me and Him, us and Him. Our lives having redeeming qualities are simply, I think I believe, a by product of the redemption that occurs in the vertical relationship first. I don't know if I believe that my life having some kind of trivial good is all that necessary. At least for now. The only redemption that is truly necessary is the reconciliation of my relationship to Him-in a way that fights for the renewal of the inner self....being a transformation of my previous condition as wicked. (Wicked and previous don't seem to be mutually exclusive though, not fully). But I guess that that's the only reconciliation that matters, which is not to discredit or devalue earthly and human reconciliation on terms of purposeless.  Of course from this vertical, true and real and authentic renewal of self to Him will, usually, pour a life that has redeeming, tangible, and outwardly visible qualities--as the inner renewal creates an outpour, flooding to the furthest extremities of a persons visible life. That would be called perfection--but the purpose of my life is a disease like spread of holiness, that must begin from within. It's almost like a righteous cancer, in the mentality that from the inside this disease begins and spreads and spreads, and then, when without treatments, causes a full surrender, some may call decay, with time. Interesting to think of holiness like a twisted from of righteous cancer. (The idea of treatment is unnecessary to my image) But, like cancer, it, being holiness or Christ-likeness, begins with a small region of the human self, from the central function, and then spreads and grows into all functions of the body. Like a bloodstream of righteousness. Once the righteous cancer pours itself into every vein, artery, muscle, bone, and marrow, the man then fully dies to self, his old life then, fully, broken and deteriorating away. 

This makes some kind of backward sense to me. So, what I am waiting for is not solely or expectantly, that my life will exhibit some kind of familial, relational, or external good occuring in those around me. That's not what I ache for. because those things are not promised. at least not in this life. I do not believe in an obedience of legalism, thinking that if I obey and follow Him, that my life will be full of blessing--this life on earth. I don't think obedience is about that. I think, more and more, that this life is less about me. I don't just "obey" to receive. I don't even know what obedience would necessarily be. If perfectly, it would be an outpour of gratitude. It's not about me having a good family, or one that's put together. It's not about that. It's not about me never experiencing abuse or pain. It's not about that either. Life is solely, the life of someone wanting to follow God, about the continual reconciling of self to Him; his righteous, holy cancer spreading to every bone, blood, and muscle of my body. 

I think, and I don't know why fully, that humans have value to God. In midst of circumstance, of looking at the world, I can't get past the abuse, the poverty, the death, the depression, the addiction, and the pain. Those are what most would call either injustice or brokenness or torture or suffering. These things, I can't escape it. They happen. "So you have to choose. You have one of two options. Either the tortures are unnecessary and there is no God, or a bad one. Or, the tortures are necessary, and there is a good God. You have to choose." I am coming to believe that there is a good God, and that, for the most part, these tortures are necessary. 

(I'm still struggling with these options). I don't know why. I don't think it's just to strengthen us or for some kind of trivial good. I don't believe that that is His only purpose of allowing evil. I too, don't think evil is always necessary---there are sometimes other options from which man can choose. But the choice doesn't negate a good God, or an absent one. 

I have called Christianity a psychological manipulation. But that still seems limited. And maybe wrong. 

I don't know why there is such evil and such heart shattering pain. And I don't know why some experience pain in severe circumstance and some in stubbed toes. I can't answer that. I know I can work towards alleviating certain social injustices and towards righting certain wrongs. But in that I know I am also limited. At some point I reach the conclusion that I have value, but my ability to change or to make change is still limited. If we "fix" one evil, another always form. that used to be defeating, and can at times still be. But the fact that evil continues to exist doesn't mean that the follower of God gives up, retires, in seeking to make justice. Just now though, there is understanding that my actions have a limitation. Which can be both comforting and an allotment to trust. 

I can't get past a God who is there. And I can't escape who I was or where I've been. I can only draw one conclusion. That I don't have any other options except redemption. It's what my heart aches for, waiting for Him to intervene exhaustively in every facet and extremity of my life. The aching now is for the reconciliation, in full, of myself to Him. The desire to improve the conditions of man is out of some form of gratitude and trust in what his righteous cancer is doing within, and powerfully so. The fear, well... that I would forget, and keep trusting myself. 

My friend Chase.

I am going to see Chase tomorrow. Update. He got into a car accident about three weeks ago. He's been in a coma and progressing slowly. He's starting to wake up. I get to see him tomorrow for the first time. 

I can't tell if it's fear or peace; if it's lack of struggle or God-given resolve. I wasn't terrified and I wasn't numb. I was pained but resting in a lack of control, which is an odd place to doze. I'm still trying to discover if distraction can be good. Until late, it's been my resilient response. I have to fight to not fall into incessant distraction; it doesn't help being easily bored and easily excited. 

But then, when the crowd dissipates and I find myself in a world of solidarity, of which I am capable of retreat even while surrounded, a whole realm of thought attacks the unconscious of experience.

 

But what I am finding seems surprising, specifically in this situation. I am finding that I'm not angry, but curious. I'm not exhausted or nervous. I'm not scared and I'm not negligent. 

Part of me wonders what will be best, but my wonder isn't nullified by the term: fear. It's not fear. 

I feel disconnected.

But not absent.

 

He's starting to wake up.

I wonder if he'll want to wake up. 

Is it selfish to pray that he does? 

Is it morbid to hope he doesn't?

There's this tension of believing and trusting the potential best and of desiring the rekindling of a friendship. 

But of what use are guesses or thoughts? The only thing that can heal right now is him. Everyone else seems left in an array of clouded thought, patience. 

Part of me is scared to see him.

There were times before that I saw his life passing...when my brother and him were dared, by myself, to jump off the bridge right before Branson. I should have known before the words were released that, of course, they would jump. And they did. It was then, when their foot left the balcony of the lake that I forsook my own Huckleberry Finn creation. 

But not now. Not now. There were moments before that I saw his life passing, but not now. And there are these saline drops of emotional perspiration because now is a question mark...spelled with uncertainty...but I think he's improving...

I keep seeing these images of him. In random places. I keep remembering these conversations and consolations. Simple memories. These little encounters that led to this dear friendship. I remember the runs. The twenty four hours at Starbucks. The painful exams and soda challenge. I remember the conversation of earned trust. You tube videos. Duct taped doors and his dirty room. Cardinals games and winded drives to Katy's. Road trips to Kamp. Bridge jumps. I keep remembering Kirkwood Farmer's Market and spilled drinks in the car. The concert. The dancing. The basketball game. The K-life skit. Cookie dough runs. Movies. My cowlick cream. I remember the conversation on the porch at Rollins, and the talk after the walk to next door. The conversations. The calls. Honesty. Integrity. Loyalty. Forgiveness. And some more forgiveness. 

I remember the other stuff too. It wasn't always pretty. But it was always honest. He's so honest. 

I hope these past terms of language will become present terms of reality. 

I hope it's not now.