Emptiness

The past few weeks have been a time of some serious soul-searching for me. I'm almost halfway done with my undergrad, working on getting a degree that will hopefully lead me into the field I would like to pursue my whole life. I'm studying stuff that's interesting to me, and that I love learning about.

In spite of that, I feel empty. My academics aren't bad, but I'm not focused or diligent or excited when it comes to any of the things I'm working on. My relationship with God is not at all in a healthy place. I am consumed by the cruel lie that so easily dominates so many of our lives: the lie that others' opinions define me.

In a cruel twist, though, I very rarely consciously care about the opinions of the people around me. I think that I'm okay and secure in who I am, but I have gradually come to the realization that my motivations for most of what I do and who I am are based entirely around a desire to shape others' perceptions of who I am.

I thus find that I'm not actually certain what I want out of life. I care so much about how people view me that I have trouble knowing who I really want to be. I want people to think I'm smart, spiritual, philosophical, deep, funny, outgoing, reliable, friendly, or any number of other adjectives. I look at the people around me, see personality traits they have that I admire, and attempt to gain them for myself. The problem is that rather than focus on developing them in myself, I have a tendency to work to develop the appearance of having them. I think about how a nice guy would act or how he would talk, and then I work to behave that way.

The result is that the time I spend with people, I spend playing an elaborate part that I have developed in order to gain their approval. My identity is defined by appearing to be a certain way, rather than actually being that way. And this leaves me lonely, tired, unmotivated, angry at the world, and angry at myself. I know that I'm not supposed to be living for other people, and so the life I've been living doesn't feel like life at all.

Who am I? To be perfectly honest, I don't really know. I know I'm not the person I've been spending my energy pretending to be, but that doesn't really mean much; knowing who I'm not doesn't go that far towards helping me to know I am.

I wish I could conclude this post with a point. But there isn't a point to it--it really is an inconsequential thought, one born of desperation and frustration and sadness. It's a thought more for me than for anyone else, and so it's not a particularly motivational one. I feel like I've lost myself. No, it's more that I feel like I never found myself in the first place.

Cross-Section of the Cuts I Make

I wish I could express the way the pain

Is what I want. I know you doubt it, but

I do not want attention when I cut.

I do it for myself, so I can gain

A bit of what I used to feel again.

See, I feel dead. I feel it in my gut,

But how am I to live when I'm about

To fall apart? I live inside my brain,

And all the things I hate are thoughts that build

Into a monster that devours all

I want, until I'm left with only hell:

A hell I hate. It leaves me drained, weak-willed,

Alone, and I feel nothing, so I fall

Into the only way I feel alive.

Dark Strokes on Light Pages

The early morning light comes through

the window at my back and I am

happy that the sun has not come up yet.

The early morning shadow at

the far side of the room reminds me

I am the exception, not the rule.

I see that the beauty of

the world is not monopolized

by daylight, blue skies, summer sun, or spring.

Darkness can be beautiful--

sometimes more than light--because

both were made by hist'ry's greatest Artist.

At night we see the stars above us:

massive pinpoints, always showing

sunlight still exists, although it might be far away.

It's easy to walk around alone

during the day, when you don't need help

but what about at night, when every step you take, you stumble?

Happy are they (and fortunate!)

who know how weak and frail they are

before the shadows come and show it further.

I am not a "pessimist,"

a "nihilist," a "realist,"

or any other name you want to use.

I am a connoisseur of art--

the kind of art that lives are made of--

written, drawn, composed in black and white.

Pain is just another stroke,

a Master's brush upon the page,

a little detail none can imitate.

This Artist uses light and contrast,

blending good and ill in moments

that define the lives of those he crafts.

The greatest moment I have found

(his magnum opus, if you will)

was when he painted blinding black upon the page,

not because the paint he used

was special. (On the other hand

it's dirty, cloying, sickeningly sweet.)

It's beautiful because the black

was painted over spotless White

as Artist (become artwork) was destroyed

So when the black is painted on

my own canvas, how can I

complain about the way that I've been painted?

(To use another metaphor:

the denouement is only lovely

for the conflict that preceded it.)

When I'm faced with discord in

the measures of my life, I'll play

them all the louder. I know they'll resolve.

So back to what I said before,

how beauty isn't just reserved

for pleasant scenes, but painful moments, too:

maybe beauty is in waiting

for the twist that makes us question

how life can be so good time and time again.

So I'll sit here and relish waiting

in the shadows of this room,

knowing that the Light will soon shine in. 

The Pain That Our Neighbors Are Feeling

I live in a world that is so black and white

And I'm not talking about true or false, wrong or right

I mean racism: failing to love the way He loved

Is just as much my fault as anyone else's

But I look around and I'm frustratingly helpless

White privilege disarms me, it makes me defenseless

Against all the evil I see in the world

I'm part of the problem, not part of the cure

And that's not 'cause I'm white; white men are not evil

But my voice is hushed by the hand of the Devil

"This isn't your fight, it's not anyone's fight!

Shut up and sit down! It'll turn out alright."

But he's lying; injustice is real, all around me

A frightening, sobering, crushing reality

I'm deafened by hate, but they say, "It's okay!

It's based on statistics; you'll see that someday."

Well, I don't want to see it! I don't want to be blind

To the way that my selfishness hurts other lives

We're the children of God, and God's not black and white

He's the King of the nations, and I know I should fight

To tell you that He doesn't care about color

He showed that when He chose to let Himself suffer

For you and for me, for "God so loved the nations"

That isn't just white, it's the whole of creation

So I don't know what Bible you think you've been reading

'Cause race and religion are so damn misleading

Forgive me, I'm 'bout to go off on a tangent

But this is a problem that I see is rampant

The Muslims who wanna get into our country?

They're people too! Let me say it quite bluntly

It's stupid to think that we aren't called to love them

For God loves the world, whether Christian or Muslim

So excuse me for this, but I'm not out for blood

I don't say "Kill 'em!" or "Gimme my gun!"

My God is Yahweh Sabaoth: Lord of Hosts

I think, if He wanted, Islam would be toast

So He doesn't need me to take up the sword

He needs me to love, to live by the Word

Look, I'm not pretending I've got it together

I'm guilty of tons, and I'm sinful as ever

But don't drag the name of my God in the dirt

By pretending He's out to get Muslims deported

Look at me ranting, I feel kinda stupid

Back to the subject (my tangent's concluded)

If God wanted racism, wouldn't He say it?

"Thou shalt choose one race to hate and go hate it"?

But do we see that anywhere in the Scripture?

Uh... No. That hasn't been written!

God doesn't want us divided and hating!

The racism raging has got His heart breaking

With white Christians faking the love that they're taking

From God, who is waiting to see us awaken

To what we've forsaken, the way we've mistaken

How sin has us broken for some sort of token

That black is the problem or white is the problem 

When sin has us killin' and teachin' our children

To raise up their children to keep up the killin'

And God damn the Devil for pickin' that apple

That opened our eyes to the nature of evil

And showed us that evil was tasty (if deadly)

And tasty was better than just being holy

The lies that we've bought have corrupted our hearts

Now we're so good at hate that it's almost an art

And I hate that I hate them who hate them who's different

But I see what they've done and I feel insufficient

To patch up the wound that the white folk have caused

By pretending that racism came from the laws

That allowed them to show us all what was inside

But now they just hide all their hate with the lie

That the poison they spit causes nobody pain

When people are DYING, and the poison's to blame!

Look, cops are just people, but people are broken

And the boys in the blue demonstrate what I've spoken:

That hate is as real now as it has been ever

And until now I've just let myself say whatever

But now I am sick of the sickness that threatens

Us all--rich or poor, black, Latino, or cracker

The air in this nation, the U. S. of A.

Is heavy with hatred, and I hate to say it

But we, as believers, are part of the issue

We say that we love, but then we continue

To hate, while pretending that God will still hear us

When we pray for healing! It's like we're delirious

Caught up in fakery, high off our sin

"Rebuking" the Devil, then letting him in

To feed off the darkness we carry inside

A darkness that, frankly, we're failing to hide

And everyone sees it! Do YOU think we're different?

They say, "Christians hate!" and I'm not indignant

Because I know the truth--what they're saying is true

And I'm desperate to know that it's not me and you

Who are feeding the pain that our neighbors are feeling

Ripping the scabs off the scars that were healing

Following Jesus is not about freedom

Freedom from sin, yes, but not from the Kingdom

We are not ours! We're slaves to the Father

Ambassadors, not simply sons, not just daughters

The life of the Christian is one of denial

We give up ourselves to become His disciples!

"I do not live, it is Jesus in me"

To be slaves of Christ is to truly be free

So put up your privilege, your right to be comfortable

Give of yourselves in your love, though it's vulnerable

Yeah, you might lose friends or status or power

But store up a treasure that lasts for forever

And know that the God who we know as our Father,

If we run the race well, will stand in our honor

"I do not live, it is Jesus in me"

To be slaves of Christ is to truly be free

So put off yourself and put on the Spirit

Let Him take over and silence the bigot

That shouts from inside and fills us with lies

Of how we are better than those who don't hide

Their sin behind masks or in pretty white tombs

If we hide our sin, it just grows in our wombs

And when it is full-grown, it gives birth to death

Not just for ourselves, but also for others

We are not perfect, though we are redeemed

We can return to our sin, though we're free

But brothers and sisters, we bear Jesus' name,

So sin versus righteousness isn't a game!

The hate you hold on to, with which you still flirt

Is one way to drag Jesus' death in the dirt

So let go of hate, and step out in love

Live like you live for the One who's above

'Cause we do! We've been bought with the blood of the Lamb

So let's not behave like the whole thing's a sham

Remember, everyone sees how you live

The love you withhold and the hate that you give

So it's not just a joke, it's a really big deal

The tongue is set fire by the fires of hell

Every decision and every word

Is made for the Dragon or made for the Word

You will serve a master, and now you must choose:

The King who will win, or the Serpent who'll lose?

"I do not live, it is Jesus in me"

To be slaves of Christ is to truly be free