Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Paper Walls

Some people show their emotions openly. Others build fortresses of steel. I hide mine behind paper walls. If you tried, you could come right through, but no one tries. If you looked hard enough, you could see right through, but no one looks. If you listened, you would hear me cry, but this world is designed to distract. This world is built to block. I don't want to live here anymore.

I take it upon myself to break through walls. I can't do them all. But I've moved many. Every time, it has been ugly. Our emotions eat us alive. They ravage us until we are nothing but a slight sliver of hope. But there is hope, however small. And nurtured and cared for, that hope grows into faith. That faith grows into understanding and that understanding grows into walking. And the water that feeds it is the word and the soil that the roots take hold in is none other than the love of our living God.

Breakdown someone's wall. Nurse life into death. Feed the starved. Clothe the naked. Love the hurt and scared.

Everyone who lives, dies.
Everyone who loves, cries.
But we do it together, and that makes it better.
Us, and our Living God.

Monday, February 07, 2011

I Got Nothin'

I stand in front of large wooden doors. My fist is poised to knock. My other hand hangs tentatively at my side. I have nothing to show. I have nothing to report. Whatever is expected on the other side, I don't have it.

But there's no turning back. There's no where else to go. Whatever I would try and do, these doors and what awaits on the other side would loom over me like my own personal rain cloud. I have to go in. I have to stand there and admit that I got nothin'.

One knock.

The doors open. A bright light illuminates the crack between the doors and widens in front of me. When my eyes adjust to the change, I step in. My hands are shaking so I place them behind my back. My head is down and I watch my feet walk across the floor.

I feel that kneeling is proper so I do that with my head still down. In a small voice, I announce that I have nothing to show. I've spent it all and I've brought nothing back.

"Jonathan," a familiar voice says, "you've sent it all ahead. Look at what you have earned me."

Friday, February 04, 2011

Having bitterness removed from your heart is like...

I don't remember being shot. I woke up lying in the mud. My body is cold and wet. I'm shaking. My blood is all around. There's so much. It's hard to breathe. How long have I been lying here? I'm so tired.

There are noises over me. Pain races through my system. I let out a scream. I feel the weight of someone on my stomach. Sweat is pouring out my skin. I'm cold on the inside. My vision is blurred. The pain won't stop.

He's digging in. I feel the cold tweezers digging deeper into my stomach. It hurts. I scream. I cry. The pain is too much.

He pulls it out. The bullet is so small. Such a little thing brought so much pain. I still hurt, but I'm bandaged and under blankets. I'm still shaking, but not as much. I'm still cold, but not as much. I'm going to live.

I keep it in a jar beside my bed. I stare at it when I can't sleep. It hurt so much to get it out. I don't even remember feeling it go in. But it is poison. It would have killed me. At the time, I didn't care. It hurt so much that I would have rather died. But now I live, and that bullet in a jar is a reminder. Death is at the door, but pain is the threshold to life.