Matthew 11:27-30

"Jesus resumed talking to the people, but now tenderly. "The Father has given me all these things to do and say. This is a unique Father-Son operation, coming out of Father and Son intimacies and knowledge. No one knows the Son the way the Father does, nor the Father the way the Son does. But I'm not keeping it to myself; I'm ready to go over it line by line with anyone willing to listen.

"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly.""
-Matthew 11:27-30

Christian Nihilism

All that is temporal is too late and already faltering in step. It is hard to make a risk on such a thing...as people when it feels like all there is behind the curtain...is just more heart wrenching pain.

But what is the alternative?
Isolation?
Eternally temporal fear?

There is nothing I need...or want to want...want to desire more than God.
Everything else will die, everyone else will go away in the end...

Why can I not just be content with the eternal?
Why must the temporal go on ripping my heart asunder while I plead for a cure for this anxiety leading towards death?

I just...want...or need...or...or...

There are words, poor words.
Fear...hate...fear...

There has to be more to this than the pain.
There has to be more life than this death.

I see across this chasm,
across the billowing ocean
a Love burning so bright
that I scarcely comprehend
but know I am being pulled.

The night is dying
and my hope
oh my hope is crying
as I feel the darkness creep.
The night will end
but until then we must go onward.

Wandering Saint of Destruction

My appetite knows no end.
My eyes are never satisfied.

The fel beast within me snarls in disgust at my weakness and demands more and more.

Nothing is ever sufficient.
Nothing is new under this burning sun.

I feel the coating of sin on my skin.
Burning ever so near.
The heat of want
coupled with the ache of desiring more,
more than this broken body knows how to deliver.

Even if I was given everything,
everything my eyes see
and my hands long to touch,
what would I have left?

There is no contempt
like there is for myself
at such weakness
as wanting it all
so I can hate myself more.

Words.
Useless bloody words
falling from a broken mouth
and all I have is all I have
while I wait and pray.

My righteousness is less than filthy rags.
I am broken and full of contempt,
my rage a senseless repetition
just a reflection of everything I am.

Panic.
Recluse.
Despising myself.
But hope.
Bright burning impossible hope.
Words of Peace breaking my heart,
just letting me begin to heal.

Carry me as I am weak.
Oh so weak from the loss of blood.

Somethings give me hope.
Somethings utterly depress me.
Is it sad that this does both?