Friday, October 31, 2008

from the past

These words seem to be useless. Why take this time and put my thoughts into words, when I have so little hope that they will matter? But on I write this useless letter to no one. My faith is draining like a leaky facet. Little by little the drops of my faith slowly pour out. It is very sad, and indeed I can feel wetness in my eyes accumulating. Knowledge, I have. Wisdom, I’ve gained. Faith, I had. Shall I continue to bow my head to a God who will not show himself? Why is their a fear inside me in speaking of this? Even now, in the stillness and loneliness of my room I fear writing the silent words. Is this really real? Am I really touching the plastic on my keyboard? And why is there this longing inside of me for the God of the bible to show himself? Are we really all this empty? Is this all there is to life? Is our calling really only to have faith in an unseen God, and to promote this blindness? Shall we give out eye covers to people and say, “see this is much better.”

I didn’t even think I was going to write any questions when I started this.

And everything I write turns into a prayer. As it does now:

God, look at me right now. See my heart which desires you. How can a blind man find what needs to be seen? Or the mute what needs to be heard? Father, I am inadequately prepared for this task. I am Thomas. I am Morgan. Together let us feel your hands and side

I want to see God. I want to touch God. Refresh me. Who can make a stale bread fresh? Who can make fresh the withered fruit? This needs be done supernaturally. So again, I pray the simple words of, God show yourself.

God show yourself.

Where are you?

Once I looked under the bed.

Then I looked out by a lake.

I searched for you in the churches.

And in every corner of this dark room,

But you are nowhere to be found.

-Written in the past. My thoughts have changed since then. This was a letter I wrote a while ago intending it not to be seen by others, but I think this is good. Posting it, that is.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

i see that i don't see

i hold dreams in my right hand, and failures in my left. one day i will pass up emptiness for fulfillment, but today i am retrogressing. this misery is long and fearful. it seems no one can alleviate my burden.

you've heard familiar words of life represented as a dark room, but i say it is a hall. it is long and narrow. the ceiling is not seen, nor can it be touched. it is dully lighted along the edges of the wall and floor, but it's dimness brings about feelings of fear and emptiness. yea, i say emptiness is an adequate description of this predicament. i ran for days, even years to find the the halls end, but this task proved useless. it seemed to constrict in a slow manner despite my haste. so i looked behind for a glimpse of the past, but the dim lights reply with a few quiet blinks before turning off permanently. "why has this task been brought upon me?" i cry out. again, no answer is given. i am cold, alone and frail.

Why can I not breathe?