sunday morning struggle

Intermittent at best…I do not wait well.  However, I long for the next big thing.  I yearn for something great.  I dream of the sky being cracked open and for God’s voice to cosmically and personally validate my experience, my knowledge, my calling and my hopes and desires.  You see, I wait, but I only wait for my preponderances to be incarnated and for my beliefs to be validated.  I have it all figured out.  I simply have to wait to be proven right, correct, brilliant and trustworthy.  I am more pompous than I could ever admit, and more of a burlesque show than I will ever know.   I keep performing on a stage, be it private or public.  It is so sad that I try to manipulate the creator and sustainer of this universe to fit into my expectations, and to validate my misgivings and imperceptions.  I need advent.  I have to be forced to pause and reflect.  I have to be made to stop and to be broken by the technology of this world that can short-out the microphone and muffle and nearly mute my voice, and cause me start and restart again in my hypocritical waiting.  It takes that kind of frustration to point out that even what I want to do for God’s glory is really probably only in final estimation for me.  I know I thought I wrote the meditation for God, and tried to connect the dots of a greater meta-narrative, but somehow got lost within the coordinates of the gps that called me to this place.  I am not the point.  I am not even a particle of the ink that fills the vacuity of a circle that will become the point on the paper of eternity.  My meager thoughts and weak murmurings cannot even begin to introduce the deep rhythms of a reconciling God that has written a redemption melody that plays in every heart, every breeze and every breath…

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