Grumble Grumble

I just got home (midnight) and since I was totally famished, I did something barbaric. I fried myself a huge panfull of bacon, then cooked a giant batch of pancakes in that same bacon grease. It was AMAZING but I kind of feel a heart attack coming on

I love my job!

I love getting paid to have fun... It's fun!

death.

I am haunted by my past, and inspired by my future.  

I am traumatized by what has been, and full of hope for the things to come.  

I have tasted death, cloaked in darkness.  And I have tasted life, wrapped in light.  

I have done things that have crucified my God, and yet have been redeemed by that very death.  

I have been given more than I could ever think to ask for, and have been seen as a son.

I have been plagued by black dreams, then thrown aside in shame.

And I have a song sung over me as I sleep, a river of love pouring out and surrounding me.  

I have known such hopelessness, and have found such hope.

I have crossed the line so many times, condemning myself for not hitting the mark.

I have done to myself what I have hated others for, pointed my own malicious finger in my own face.  

I would easily count myself out of any reward, gift, or even smile.  


I have left friends for dead, and laughed at their misery.  

I have assumed that I know best, everyone else is behind the times, and God is old-fashioned.  

I look at myself and think, "Wow!" and look at others and think, "Sad!"  

I think of myself as the most clean, even though I find myself staring up from the sewer.  


I float over the heads of my fellow believers, wondering why they refuse to fly.  

...And then I look up from the floor wondering why everyone is walking on me.  

I kneel at the church alter, basking in my own humility, and consider how few follow and act as humble as I.


I like to think of God in a glass box, and when I feel unhappy I can let a little of him out.  I like to think that the box is small, non-threatening, and in my control.  

I also like to think that even though I keep the box, I don't really need it.  In fact, it needs me.


Sometimes when I'm depressed or angry, I run to Him for help.

Then, when help comes running, I pat myself on the back, thoroughly impressed at my own faith and ability to seek and find.  

I wonder why others have so many problems.


I like to break the rules sometimes.  But it's not that bad when I do it.  

That's just the way it is.  

Besides, God knows me too well to think too long and hard about my sin.

I find myself getting bored with others - especially when they drone on about themselves.  I can't wait for them to stop so I can finally say something interesting.


I read the Bible and think of it as mostly an analogy.  Then I wonder why I'm experiencing the very things I've prayed for.

I once prayed to die.  And I did... I found myself crushed to the floor.
I once prayed to mourn.  And the sorrow was too deep for tears.
I once prayed for joy.  And I received joy, not happiness.


God, you don't get it!  What I meant was this:

I pray for death:  You show me a scripture about YOU dying.
I pray to mourn:  I consider how painful life could be, and receive your comfort.
I pray for joy:  You give me what I want.


God, why aren't you concerned with what I want?  Isn't that the purpose of knowing you?  So that you can give me the desires of my heart?  And make my cup overflow?  And give me an abundance that no storehouse could hold?  


But You are not an analogy - no!


Forgive me for praying to the idea of you.
Forgive me for thinking that I can keep you under my thumb.
Forgive me for placing my plan of how you will work, over your plan of how you will work.

Crucify me, Lord! I ask for death... for only death can bring life.