“I sold my soul to it all.” he whispered as he leaned in close. I couldn’t believe he was telling me something so personal. I barely knew him.
“They came in like a flood. The applause, the requests for more, the likes and the smiles and the cries of ‘We want you!’ Before I knew it I was doing things I never really wanted to do in the first place. I did them because I liked being liked. I liked being in the inside circle. I had to keep up with the big guns, so I did what the big guns were doing. They made me feel powerful. And I liked that. I liked that so much,” he continued, opening up to me in a way that probably surprised himself. The words just kept spilling out of his mouth, a cascade of honesty over things he had never let himself truly believe. He was desperate. He needed to get rid of it, and he wanted to spread the message that it was never supposed to be like this. Life was never supposed to be lived in desperation of being liked. How frivolous.
“You know, before I knew it,” he said, sitting back in his chair as if to say he was getting more comfortable about opening up about the whole thing, “I was creating things that allowed me to have power over people, and I wasn’t even sure if I believed in the product I was creating. I just knew that the product gained me favor with the people I so desperately didn’t want to disappoint. And it caused more people to need me and look to me as an expert. I had had that hole in my soul for a long, long time… needing to be needed and respected. I just kept plowing through life, trying to cover that hole through good works.”
As he spoke, I found myself thinking that this was the kind of stuff we all wish our elders and our mentors and our teachers and our parents would tell us. Enough with the self-help books, and the sermonizing, and the posturing yourself like you only have answers and no questions. Enough pretending. Enough with that nonsense. The victory is in the honesty.
The crowd chants, “Speak to us from your valleys!”
We need music from your depths…not your surface, your lip service.
We find solace in your streams that you are learning to wade in.
And we will wade with you.
I don’t know what to do with all of this endless chatter, this barrage of images and quotes preaching at me. This black hole called the Internet. A society that feasts on power and image. The constant connectivity of everyone and everything. I see the merits – the world is smaller, information is at our disposal more quickly – but it’s mostly a loud, annoying noise that won’t stop.
It’s like a bad storm has rolled in. And although the rain is nice, the constant thunder, lightening, and looming dark clouds are menacing after awhile. You just want them to go. You crave a different setting. One that’s less crowded and threatening. The Bright! Shiny! New! Click me! lifestyle is exciting like a thunderstorm, tricking you into doing the happy dance in the rain before it hits you with lightening and tornadoes.
Nothing has sparked a blandness in my life like social media. I miss life as before, when it was not drowning in other people’s comings and goings. How do we stay here, and live here, and be humans together without trying to conquer one another through our projectile vomiting of opinions, boasting, and fame-addictions?
I don’t know. But I’m trying to keep my focus on the behind-the-scenes of my life, and I’m trying to pay attention to my neighbors, and I’m trying to remember the timeless simplicity of how Jesus spoke and lived.
I can’t just disengage, and avoid the stupidness altogether. Nor can I take part in the mud-slinging, in the fierce effort to be liked, in the obsession with being right and being top-dog. I’d feel empty either way. So what do I do?
I rebel. I go another way. And what does it look like? That’s what I’m trying to navigate. Life this 21st.
Take the mountain out of your sightline for once.
That mountain you are trying to conquer for the sake of your empire.
Focus on the ground you’re standing on, and the people you’re sharing it with. You are wearing them out. Your continual pursuit of the biggest and the greatest has replaced your awareness of your needs and their needs.
Pay attention. What worked then won’t work now. Your goal looks like a piece of moldy bread. It used to taste good. We’d sit at the table and feast together back then. The bread was good, the wine was even better.
The King has set a new table. I only know this because I’ve stayed in touch with Him. Have you? You act like you do, but I sometimes wonder.
Let’s come together at this new table, drink this new wine, eat this fresh bread. Let’s share in this time together, and reacquaint ourselves with the ease of openness. It’s a safe place.
Know yourself. Know your people.
We humans have been hurt by bad leaders. We humans have been bad leaders. So, it’s hard for us to give any leader a chance, especially if they’re new at what they’re doing. Our pain tells us they’re going to screw things up…screw us up.
It’s a risk to give someone a chance.
Someday we’ll be the ones people will be taking a chance on. Maybe they will have learned from us that we humans are at our healthiest when we are optimistic.
Stay true to your heart. Make sure it’s clean. Pure in your motives.
It’s more than it seems.
Corruption, discrimination, abandonment, offense… through words, images, actions.
How have you survived for so long?
I see a fire of fury in you, and a surfeit of spite.
You can’t go on like this.
Heart, you must find your purpose again. Awake! Come back to life. Be drained of your jealousy & rage.
I choose…again…for the 128,000th time… to trust in Perfect Love, to let it heal me, wash me, give me new perspective, and keep me safe. I choose…all over again…to believe that corruption, discrimination, abandonment, and abuse are not acts of my Father, and I choose to not participate with them or their companions – fear, fury, bitterness, pessimism.
No one said it would be easy. But, Heart, you have to make a choice: Rot and die in this bitter cold, or just start running.
Come now, Heart. Let’s run.
We knew each other. Not like now.
We fought for worlds beyond our reach. We knew what lay ahead, and we were hopeful. Never before had there been a company of people quite like us, a ragtag group of all sorts…full of fire.
Fire was what marked us. It was in our songs, in our decisions, in our actions, our arguments. We knew nothing else but intensity. There was no such thing as cynicism back then. It was all or nothing, and nothing never entered our minds.
Our entire lives lay ahead of us. And everyone believed in us. We had crazy ideas, and they said yes. We were young, wild, and carefree. We had a home.
“What if everyone could belong?” we pondered. It was an idea that always fell right smack dab in the center of every conversation and every plan.
And we actually believed we could change the world.
Creativity came easy. Time was no sacrifice. We were bold. We were safe. Moments of wild dancing in the night would turn to spaces of breathtaking intimacy we were not prepared for. We heard angels. We sang with abandon in our secret language. These songs have marked me forever.
I do remember pain. Years later that pain seems diminished when compared to the wonders. Selective memory.
It was the perfect time to be alive.
I am tired of the way things look and the way they sound and I am tired of my own voice echoing in my head as I stumble upon rut after rut in culture.
Days long past are the common goal of so many. They cling to yesterday like it’s a prize they won, a once in a lifetime reward to be admired and attained by all generations to come. They live there on the shelf with their prize from the 1990’s.
Only it’s 2015.
Yesterday is already old.
Don’t stay behind.
The sounds, the thoughts, the space in which to roam; we press on to explore them. Divergent thinking is a wind that will carry us to promising places.
Everything we thought was great about the good old days was great and amazing… for the good old days. Please don’t stay there in those days. We have more good days to come.
When you talk about the past and all its glory, as if it’s some heroic giant, we get stuck in its shadow.
But our dreams are too big for the shadows.
Divergent thinking conflicts with yesterday’s standards.
Our present and our future, they call to us with their possibilities.
We can not sit here and try to revive all of our precious moments. We must loose ourselves from their grip. We simply can not afford to miss out on exploring what we do not yet know.
Oh cheap expectations, why do you plague humanity?
Oh humanity, why are you infatuated with form and substance and things you can see and fully figure out?
There is depth beyond what we see, hear, feel, touch, and there is wave after wave after wave of unveiling.
“I wonder…”. My happy place.
Die to the satisfaction of having the Great King all figured out and wrapped up in a tidy box. Roam free in the mystery.
Oh, how boring are the boxes of those who’ve been pierced by the sword of safety.
Our days on earth are but a shadow. Job 8:9. A shadow, a hint, a profile, a glimmer of what is beyond. These days may be inferior to those days ahead… but if they are any reflection at all of what lies beyond, if there is any connection at all, then there must be some fun to be had here in exploring that which stretches our understanding.
Comfort zones. Glass walls, separating us from the more. We can feel in our gut there is more on the other side, we can see with our spirit man what lies past.
We shatter the glass with our “Yes.”
And then, just like that, it’s over.
A world of intellectual stimulation, discovery, free thinking, stretching, a world that gave me a sense of direction & purpose, was here for seven months and then… just gone.
Who was I before this, and who am I now?
What exactly was this all about, and could I do it all again? Or, rather, should I do it again. Is it mine to embrace and explore. Is it a destiny to fulfill.
I don’t know.
Seems like I have more options now.
And more insecurities? Maybe.
But I have come so far.
Still, the idea in my head, the me that I see, has yet to be fully realized. I’m still scared. And still unsure of myself. Yet not as much as before, that’s for sure. And that’s incredible.
So what’s going on here? What is this, what has this been about… and what am I to do with all my likes and dislikes now?
I still want you more than ever, God.
Real life, mystical, felt touches and encounters with you. My heart craves your words.
“Talk to me.
Cause I know You lots of ways. Sometimes when the wind blows a certain strength and decibel, I could swear it’s Your breath… like You’re actually taking the time to really touch us here… Your breath (the wind) on our skin, Your voice (the wind) in our spirits.
And sometimes You have sent messages to me so unexpected that You had to keep sending them over and over for me to actually get it. Like the dragonfly that wouldn’t leave me alone. The flowers that wouldn’t stop growing. The movies and TV shows with story lines that were more prophetic in nature than any futurist could ever discern about me.
You always talk to me. At times it’s in ways I don’t think anyone else would ever understand. And I like it that way. I like our language. I like how You get me. I like Your nearness, I like how You reach for me, and I like how You keep communication interesting.
I wish everyone knew You like that.”