I have this need to just sit and create something out of nothing
a need to make something work that has no business of being together
something that doesn’t belong in the setting that it is placed
someone said that it didn’t belong, that it wouldn’t fit,
someone else defined the limits of what should be and shouldn’t.
Who are they to say what is and what isn’t?
Who are they to tell me what should and shouldn’t be and why do I listen?
And yet again, who am I to think that what they say doesn’t matter?
why should I continue to sit and wonder why I am sitting alone,
without a voice
when I have a choice that would make a difference
if only I spoke up. How effective is silence in this world?If bitterness were something that you tasted, I would have the market on it.
If the nasty, burning bile that rises from deep within your stomach came whenever it needed to, would I turn into a pile of heaping bitterness?
Actually, I don’t think that I would.
I don’t see myself as bitter as what I sound like to be.
Other people do not see me as bitter either – or are they close enough to taste what I see and feel?
Am I really showing what is truly inside or is it all a front to show people what they want to see?
Do they really look now that the walls of me are coming down?
Now that the real insides are being exposed?
Now that the true pain of it all is staring at them undauntingly?
Or will they look away and run… Pretend that they see nothing.
Pretend that all is wonderful in their houses made of glass.
Pretend that nothing really bothers them, that all is well and good.
And reality check – do I care?
I do care. But it’s different now.
I don’t care if they see me hurting. I don’t care if they see the pain.
I don’t care if they see that I am just like them as long as they see what has truly changed me; what makes me different from the others…what makes me into me.
I might have bitterness that comes creeping at times and other times saturates me.
I might be the essence of a nasty bile that courses through your system making you think twice about what you will do next, what you will say and who you will say it to, but at least I make you feel.
I make you want to change.
I make your stomach surge and make your thoughts want to purge your system free of all the toxic poisons that come through you.
I make you want to be freed from the insanity of being sane.
We are allowed to feel these thoughts of random chaos.
We are allowed to breakdown and cry and lash out periodically.
Without people like us where would people like you be?
Would you ever think of anyone who was hurting?
Would you ever actually allow change to happen in your life?
Why would you want to rest into a steady lull of mundaness?
Wouldn’t it be better to simply feel now and then?
To just be who you are and let God take all that you have and mold it into what he wants you to become?
And how does your view and opinions of me speak to you now?
Do you think I have lost my mind and that I have gone over the edge of reality?
I am sure I have. But – I am also held in the hand of Jesus.
Created by Him. Taken from His side. It is written, “we have the mind of Christ,”
Jesus offended many to help them to see that they too were blind, helpless, and bitter.
The only way to change is to see that a change is needed in the first place.
So when you taste the bitterness rising up within you, before it takes a root, take a breath and just cry.
Cry with all your might. Even the angels cried out to Jesus.
Let your entire system be purged of all thoughts of hatefulness and strife.
And when your done say Jesus, take this life.
Manifest within me what you have within You.
Doesn’t that make you take a breath of peace? It makes you stop.
You might say that I am sometimes a mad-dashing rush of chaotic wind trampling your thoughts, making you spin, creating friction where there is no place for it…
but in reality – through all of it – there is an anchor. I have chosen to hold onto the anchor. To be seated in heavenly places, to not be confined to situations or places, but to actually live and love even with all the loss that comes.
Peace has a price. The price actually sometimes is chaotic.