Mirrors and images

When was the last time a mirror told you what you wanted to hear? Bear with me for a moment as I refer to a mirror as being capable of doing so. I realize it is an inanamit object, incapable of thoughts or emotions, I'm simply being metaphorical. When was the last time a mirror was honest with you? If you are anything like me, it doesn't happen very often. More often than not, I chance a brief peek in the mirror, and instantly feel disappointed. There are few times I look in the mirror and don't regret it. Lately, I've been pondering why. You really don't have to look far to see that society today is teeming with ideas and specific opinions on what beauty is. People everywhere, all around the world, are influenced in one way or another, by images or gossip. The self made 'bar' of beauty has been raised absurdly high, while the bar of acceptance a been lowered to unrealistic levels. Every time I stop and truly ponder it, the more ridiculous it seems to me. For instance; Who decided that acne makes someone ugly? Who decided that anyone being anything other than skin and muscle, is fat? Who decided that clothes can either make or break a social status? Who made us care? Society will always have a cruelly critical eye fixed on everyone. There are days I feel I cannot escape its burning gaze. It follows me everywhere. Then, I pause for moment and wonder, "Why? Why do I care?" I look at people of all ages, ethnicity, shapes and sizes, and try and figure out why everyone is so impacted. There are, of course, obvious influences, tv most likely being the guiltiest culprit. Those folks on tv just look so darn good. Flawless skin, perfect figures, straight teeth, impeccable fashion, and irrepresible charm. Everything I'm not. In all appearences, they have everything. Then, there are those blasted magazines. Have you ever been standing in line at a grocery store, checking out the newest brands of gum, and suddenly caught sight of a magazine out of the corner of your eye? Amongst the various gardening options, construction advice, guns and gossip, there's that one ripped guy or flawless women smiling generously at you, as if to say, "My life is good." I must admit there is a brief moment where I can't tear my eyes away. And, almost instantly, I start thinking about my own figure. I start comparing. As I shuffle forward to purchase my items, there's already a knawing in the back of my mind. Slowly chewing it's way into my sub-concious, where it sets up shop and begins to chip away at my confidence. Then, there's that group of friends on facebook or myspace, that seems perfect in every way. A ridiculous amount of friends, a fast track life, and (again) perfect forms. The list of distractions and pressures goes on.
All this made me think. Why? What does physical appearance do for us? One theory presented itself. It may be outlandish, but it is the only conclusion I can possibly reach for. We all want to be accepted. Even those who claim to not care, deep down, want to be accepted. We want to be wanted. Desperately. We desire to be noticed, maybe even admired. We want others to want us. And somehow, society has taught us that physical appearance is a deal breaker.
Yet, on the flip-side of that, there is something else that chips away at our self-confidence. Perhaps the worse critic of all. Us. "You are your worst critic." So true. Often times I will obess over something for a long while, feeling like it sticks out for all to see, only to find out later that nobody even noticed.
As cliche as it may sound, I think everyone is beautiful. We are beautiful. Don't listen to that mirror. God made us in His image, and He doesn't make mistakes. Ever. We are beautiful.

Silent prayer

Do you ever feel like no one hears you? Do you ever feels like no one listens? Like you could stand in a crowded room, screaming, and not a single person would turn your way? I sure do. Words begin to feel useless. Like trying to shout into a raging storm. The words are ripped away the second they pass my lips. Amid the mad hustle and bustle of a constantly changing society, people get lost in the chaos. Forgotten. Left in a lonely corner to gather dust. It is easy to feel forgotten and unheard. It's easier still to be the one to forget and not listen. How many times have I gone about my way, blissfully and contentedly unaware of the storm that rages around me? I choose to coast on through, surviving by any means necesarry, yet I cry injustice when the same is done to me.

I was struck with a thought today as I watched one of the deaf kids pray. Growing up, I was taught many times over, the 'proper' way to pray. I got very very good at praying, and stopped talking to God altogther. But today, as I watched her pray with her hands, I realized how useless my words are sometimes. It rarely occurs to me that God reads what comes out of the heart, not the mouth. Words are good, but they are just noises if not spoken from the heart or with true intent. It somehow never occured to me. I can create the most elaborate and spectacular prayer, laced with good intentions and delivered with passion, but if I am not bothering to approach the throne of God, then it's just a show. I make myself disingenuous. There's nothing wrong with folding hands, closing eyes, and kneeling. It's a sign of respect and humility to God. Yet, from what I understand, He also just wants me to talk with Him. To communicate with Him, in all honesty and love. Even though the deaf girl couldn't use words, God listens the prayer of her hands and her heart.
And He doesn't just listen, He hears us.

The Kingdom

"The Kingdom of Heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went out and sold all he had, and bought that field."

This struck me quite hard. What struck me the most was word Joy. Not happiness, not contentment, not excitment, his joy. When was the last time I felt overjoyed at knowing Christ? At best I content myself to be safely happy. At best I harness my emotions to sit back and take little part in the massive hurricane of love that He is. When was the last time I let Him sweep me off my feet? His love is a wildfire, and I am clutching a lighter. His love is an endless ocean, and I'm splashing around in a stream.

The man in the parable, without hesitation, went out and sold everything he had. Not most of what he had, but everythig he had. He surrendered all he owned, considering it nothing compared to the Kingdom of Heaven. In his overwhelming joy, and in complete faith, he sold everything. Would I give up everything for the Kingdom of Heaven? Would I sell all I have to gain the Kingdom? There are times where I surrender things little by little. A small bit here, and pinch of surrender there, but staying inside these lines I've drawn. I get so comfortable in my shell of moderation. There is nothing comfortable or moderate about faith. Faith cannot be measured by man. In human thinking, there is very little about faith that is safe. In fact, it looks down right ridiculous. Undignified. Crazy. To sell everything for a Kingdom that cannot be seen with human eyes.
I want to be down right crazy for the Kingdom.

Me and you

I'm standing here by your lonely door
Hand poised to break the silence
If feels so wrong being so unsure
How could I possibly breach this distance?
You and me, me and you
What on earth are we going to do?

Your eyes will tell what your lips will not
An open book I can't understand
It seems like I knew, but then I forgot
Does this even deserve a second chance?
I'm trying to explain in my lonely way
I'm failing to sketch these useless words
Even if I screamed at you face to face
Somehow I know I would go unheard
Me and you, you and me
Is this the way it's meant to be?

The time for answers has all but passed
The pieces have slipped from my nerveless hands
Who is to say if this turmoil will last
Who is to say I will ever understand
You go your way, I will go mine
Perhaps one day our paths will cross
Let's just leave all this heartache behind
And bear the sting of love not quite lost
You and me, me and you
There's nothing more that we can do
Holding on can mean letting go
I'll see you again, long down the road

Stand tall

All who know stand and agree
At best I am the worst of me
Come on home, brutal honesty
At best I am the worst of me
Move your feet you fearful heart
All you hold is breaking apart
The paintings that you proudly display
Are fading away into a soulless grey
The world will never cease to move
Someone will always have something to prove
Take a break, slow down and breathe
You will not be saved by the web you weave
Between holding and letting go
Of expectations and genuine hope
You learn to trust the true painters hands
Though your failures outnumber the sands
It's not up to you when it's far too late
It's not up to you to decide your fate
All who know stand and agree
His love alone can set us free
Come on home, sweet honesty
His love alone can set us free

Day one

I picture a child.
                           A small, shy child, seated on a rickety chair in the middle of a classroom. Glasses scrunched on her nose, eyes squinted, peering up at a wide blackboard the teacher is scribbling on. Equation after equation is written out in exceptional detail, and to see it, it appears to be absurdly simple. But the child, however intelligent, cannot make heads or tails of it. Trying desperately to work the numbers and scratching furiously on her paper, she struggles to keep up and grasp the concept. Every fiber of her being desires to solve it, to be able to understand. To lift the fog of confusion masking the answers. To no avail, she tries again and again. The numbers refuse to fall into place. She casts a suspicious eye around the classroom, a small part of her hoping to see another student in the same battle. It appears that she is the only one unable to complete the task set before them. It just doesn't make sense. She wants to understand, to grasp ahold, and move forward, but she cannot move beyond.
                             I feel like this child, the classroom is life, the teacher is christianity, and the equation is my faith. Where is God in it all? Why can't He simply infuse me with unshakeable faith? I struggle within myself, a battle with flesh and spirit. I am a mustard seed that refuses to germinate and grow. Every time I poke my ahead above the surface, preparing to flourish, I catch sight of the towering forest around me, and I retreat back into the dirt. How could I ever become like a towering oak? How could I ever even dream of being fully alive and blossoming in His Life? I am that child, still in the classroom, buried in a mountain of failed tests, slowly losing faith. Too frustrated to continue. I am still that child. I've outgrown my small desk, every corner of the classroom has collected cobwebs, the lights have long since burned out, and my limbs have grown weak. Yet still, on the dusty blackboard, remains the instructions. The simple, yet oh so baffling instructions, step by step, waiting to be understood. I throw my pencil, scatter my papers, overturn my desk, and beat my fists against the blackboard. I just want to give up. To walk out of the classroom and never look back. To give in to my flesh, and burn away the last of my faith. Oh, how patient He is. Anyone else would have given up on me. None other, has the love and faith that He does. He remains faithful, when I am a fickle lover, He remains kind, when I abtain cruelty, He remains gentle, when I unleash my rage, He remains patient, when I give up so easily, He remains a powerful God, when I sink below the surface.
                            Ignorance is a frightfully familiar tune I dance to. Perhaps knowingly, perhaps not. Am I to attain the knowledge of Good and Evil? Right and Wrong? No matter what I believe there will always be someone to challenge it with dogged and passionate fervency. Who is to say who is right? If I retreat to the bible, Gods word, and attempt to find the answers there, who is to say I am reading it correctly?  If the ragged ship of my soul is lost out in a storm at sea, who is to say that light piercing the black fog is Good or Evil? Dare I steer my ship towards it? The trickery of Evil, is that one cannot always see it for what it truly is. Evil comes cloaked in light, and one does not find this out until it is too late. I desperately search for answers, praying continuously for wisdom, yet I hesitate. If I claim to desire wisdom, and at last attain it, my days of ignorance will be over. The thin film of what I percieve as reality will be torn to shreds. There is no going back from that. So I fight wisdom and discernment. I want it. I hide from it. I beg for it. I swat it away with a careless hand and fingers that itch to sin. How it is possible to be so conflicted, I do not know. My feet yearn to dance in the freedom only righteousness brings, but with knowledge comes responsibility. If I were to be brutally honest, I would say that is not my hearts desire. Yet, my life is no longer my own. I surrendered my hollow shell of a human body, my tattered heart, and wandering soul, to my Father and King. This was not to be done lightly. Taking up my cross and follwing Him through mountains and across deep seas, was not a decsision made on a whim. My choice to emerge from the shadows and stand before Him, filthy, yet willing, was not made lightly. It cannot be done lightly. It is not a life choice, meant to be chalked up with menial tasks and pro-active actions. It changes the very structure of the soul. It is a wonderous gift. A beautiful burden. An agonizing death, followed by new life. I emerged from the womb of ignorance, no more than a helpless babe, weak, and unsure. My eyes were opened. With this, came sorrow. My heart, Gods possession, yet easily swayed the the world, grew heavy with grief. When I observed the world, I saw a mere glimpse of what He sees, and it broke my heart. It is so hard, no, almost impossible, to pursue further this journey into wisdom. Altogether terrifying. I cannot turn back, yet my feet refuse to carry me forward. I stand on the brink. I stand on the raging waves. I stand in the blackened valley. In the end, I stand before Him.