A beautiful bride, her pilfered pride brought to tears
By the Syndrome and his finest feature: an all-consuming fear.
Rape erased remorse and reason, too ravaged to recall.
"Is your phantom's love truly better than no love at all?"
We'd come to kill our hope by leaving childhood behind,
That very hope that ignites the lights in the hearts of humankind.
While he searched the streets and called her name, she'd been rendered paralyzed;
"Please don't run!"
She feared his wrath, yet he would have wiped the tears from her eyes.
"The dawn will come!"
And though she didn't understand, and lost her gift to give,
"Our hopes burn brighter than the rising sun!"
The man who loved that harlot would have died to see her live.
"I know what you have done has destroyed your peace,
But you must know that my heart pangs for your release.
I know these shadows, murky black, have dimmed your sight,
But my candle glows enough to melt this darkest night."
While he searched the streets and called her name, she'd been rendered paralyzed;
"Please don't run!"
She feared his wrath, yet he would have wiped the tears from her eyes.
"The dawn will come!"
And though she didn't understand, and lost her gift to give,
"Our hopes burn brighter than the rising sun!"
The man who loved that harlot would have died to see her live.
"Now dance with me, my Bride! Drink my Bacchic wine and play!
And all my Muses sing along as we dance the darkest night away!
Now sing with me, my Bride! Get lost in blood and joyous tears:
Our manifest eternal bliss in the blessed music of the Spheres!"
Showing posts with label Allegory. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Allegory. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Monday, July 16, 2007
The Tension of Weightlessness.
*jump*
I have this
Funny feeling that
I'm weightless.
Do you know the one?
It's the one where
You've let it all
Go.
It's the one where you've
Given yourself to gravity,
Stopped resisting the irresistible,
Quit trying to hold yourself up.
It's the one where you feel like you've
Surrendered to the wind,
Being okay with it blowing you
This way and that.
It's the one where you feel like you've left
Both your stomach
And your sanity
Back at the top,
And you hope to God that
You sprout wings
And fly.
I have this
Funny feeling that
I'm weightless.
Do you know the one?
It's the one where
You've let it all
Go.
It's the one where you've
Given yourself to gravity,
Stopped resisting the irresistible,
Quit trying to hold yourself up.
It's the one where you feel like you've
Surrendered to the wind,
Being okay with it blowing you
This way and that.
It's the one where you feel like you've left
Both your stomach
And your sanity
Back at the top,
And you hope to God that
You sprout wings
And fly.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Excuses.
How sad.
Instead of the click of frantic fingers on a keyboard, I can hear crickets chirping. Bummer.
What was once the site of fun and fruitful philosophical discourse is now mostly just collecting dust--the ghost of a boom town in the wilderness of cyberspace.
Hey, look.
A tumbleweed.
My apologies to all for my misuse of this space; what could have been used for good was neglected. I have many excuses--some good, some bad.. but they're all still excuses.
I will now be attempting to post on this page various papers that I have written, since I'm no good at coming up with completely original material on a consistant basis--hopefully starting soon--but don't get your hopes up. :)
Instead of the click of frantic fingers on a keyboard, I can hear crickets chirping. Bummer.
What was once the site of fun and fruitful philosophical discourse is now mostly just collecting dust--the ghost of a boom town in the wilderness of cyberspace.
Hey, look.
A tumbleweed.
My apologies to all for my misuse of this space; what could have been used for good was neglected. I have many excuses--some good, some bad.. but they're all still excuses.
I will now be attempting to post on this page various papers that I have written, since I'm no good at coming up with completely original material on a consistant basis--hopefully starting soon--but don't get your hopes up. :)
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Metaphorical Metaphysics. A Moral Dilemma.
(I apologize in advance for being horribly esoteric… I’m just writing down what all this feels like in my head.)
As another celebration of the wonderful holiday that is Thanksgiving comes and goes, I feel faced with the greatest and simplest paradoxes—I’m wrestling with what seems to be an enormous metaphysical conglomeration of things much too close to home and much too far over the horizon to make any ordered sense of it all. One big fight is going on in my head, and the bout bill is so large, it feels like the in-laws who can’t keep their own family matters straight came over to my place for the long weekend and started making trouble here.
My thankfulness and humble gratitude to God for the countless wonderful things He has blessed me with battles with my depression and loneliness.
The love I have for my friends battles with my frustration over their hurtful actions.
The delight I take in the relationships I have battles with my fears of not being good enough and getting hurt again.
My excitement for recent opportunities to realize my life's dreams battles with my fears of failure and commitment.
My desire to abandon my philosophical studies and my dreams to devote my life to feeding the hungry battles with my unmistakable knowledge that there is something much bigger at stake than the immediate comfort of the downtrodden.
My awe and wonder at the mystic and metaphysical battles with my disgust for empty ideological sophistry and gnostic bullshit.
At the epic war game in my mind, simplicity battles complexity.
Earth battles Quintessence, and the aether swirls around them, goading them on.
Past and Future battle, and Present keeps yelling at them both to quit complicating the situation.
The universe battles with the bum who sits at the freeway exit.
…
“What is to be done? We’re drawn to the terrible fallacy that man is desirable, and there’s no escaping into truth.”
*sigh*
At the moment, I’m at a loss for what to do… I guess the only thing I can do is just to keep singing.
Praise God from whom all blessings flow!
Praise Him all creatures here below!
Praise Him above, ye heavenly hosts!
Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost!
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone… and may we always keep singing.
Amen.
As another celebration of the wonderful holiday that is Thanksgiving comes and goes, I feel faced with the greatest and simplest paradoxes—I’m wrestling with what seems to be an enormous metaphysical conglomeration of things much too close to home and much too far over the horizon to make any ordered sense of it all. One big fight is going on in my head, and the bout bill is so large, it feels like the in-laws who can’t keep their own family matters straight came over to my place for the long weekend and started making trouble here.
My thankfulness and humble gratitude to God for the countless wonderful things He has blessed me with battles with my depression and loneliness.
The love I have for my friends battles with my frustration over their hurtful actions.
The delight I take in the relationships I have battles with my fears of not being good enough and getting hurt again.
My excitement for recent opportunities to realize my life's dreams battles with my fears of failure and commitment.
My desire to abandon my philosophical studies and my dreams to devote my life to feeding the hungry battles with my unmistakable knowledge that there is something much bigger at stake than the immediate comfort of the downtrodden.
My awe and wonder at the mystic and metaphysical battles with my disgust for empty ideological sophistry and gnostic bullshit.
At the epic war game in my mind, simplicity battles complexity.
Earth battles Quintessence, and the aether swirls around them, goading them on.
Past and Future battle, and Present keeps yelling at them both to quit complicating the situation.
The universe battles with the bum who sits at the freeway exit.
…
“What is to be done? We’re drawn to the terrible fallacy that man is desirable, and there’s no escaping into truth.”
*sigh*
At the moment, I’m at a loss for what to do… I guess the only thing I can do is just to keep singing.
Praise God from whom all blessings flow!
Praise Him all creatures here below!
Praise Him above, ye heavenly hosts!
Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost!
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone… and may we always keep singing.
Amen.
Friday, November 17, 2006
At the Funeral of Our Generation
At the funeral of our generation,
We mourn the loss of our own,
But lift high their pride in exultation,
And rejoice that they all died alone.
Their hearts had grown out of proportion,
Too big to fit inside their chests;
Unresponsive to defibrillation,
Lost to cardiac arrest.
And we all cry, “Hallelujah”?
At the funeral of our generation,
A hymn is sung for those few proud
Who, in secular sanctification,
Spilt their blood and died to win the crowd.
"All hail the Saints of our great nation!
They've given us our crutches back;
The pinnacles of pasteurization,
They've made our milk nonfat!
Hallelujah, hallelujah!"
At the funeral of our generation,
The eulogy brings us all to tears
Over the heathen proliferation
We've loved to hate for years.
In a grand miscommunication,
Sovereign stomachs rule minds amiss.
Destroyed by lustful fornication,
Just missed joy in coital bliss.
Why do we cry, "Hallelujah"?
At the funeral of our generation,
Somber smiles trade for happy frowns.
And our shepherd, in his mild frustration,
Throws his pulpit to the ground.
As the symbol of our desecration
Is smashed beyond repair or mend,
He's baffled why, like carnal duration,
The climax was our end.
"Hallelujah, hallelujah!"
We mourn the loss of our own,
But lift high their pride in exultation,
And rejoice that they all died alone.
Their hearts had grown out of proportion,
Too big to fit inside their chests;
Unresponsive to defibrillation,
Lost to cardiac arrest.
And we all cry, “Hallelujah”?
At the funeral of our generation,
A hymn is sung for those few proud
Who, in secular sanctification,
Spilt their blood and died to win the crowd.
"All hail the Saints of our great nation!
They've given us our crutches back;
The pinnacles of pasteurization,
They've made our milk nonfat!
Hallelujah, hallelujah!"
At the funeral of our generation,
The eulogy brings us all to tears
Over the heathen proliferation
We've loved to hate for years.
In a grand miscommunication,
Sovereign stomachs rule minds amiss.
Destroyed by lustful fornication,
Just missed joy in coital bliss.
Why do we cry, "Hallelujah"?
At the funeral of our generation,
Somber smiles trade for happy frowns.
And our shepherd, in his mild frustration,
Throws his pulpit to the ground.
As the symbol of our desecration
Is smashed beyond repair or mend,
He's baffled why, like carnal duration,
The climax was our end.
"Hallelujah, hallelujah!"
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Base Jumping Is Scary. A Joke.
"We've lost our way,
And if we could only see us now...
The words of the dead ring in our ears,
But its only a lie.
The voice in your head brings you to tears,
But you don't know why.
Yes, it's only a lie...
Isn't it?"
"So Strange I Remember You"
- Thrice
I have this funny feeling that I get when I feel that an era of my life is over. Clearly and obviously, I'm only twenty years old, and life is just beginning, and there have been very few "eras" of my life that I have passed through, save junior high school (R.I.P. Five Iron Frenzy), and yadda yadda yadda. Still, the feeling of a coming completion haunts me.
Do you know the one? It's the one accompanied by that powerful scent of nostalgia noxious enough to knock over a cow (I realize this is an odd allusion at best, but I feel it works to give you a sense of the oddness of the previously mentioned feeling). The one that signifies that everything you've ever known is coming to a close, and leaves you wondering, "Where the crap did everyone go?" Yeah, that one.
And yet, while this funny feeling tells me that I'm sitting on the precipice of something incredible, I am for some odd reason failing to comprehend that I'm sitting on the edge of that incredible cliff. A good cliff, mind you, a wicked awesome cliff... but the fact that I can't seem to see an enormous cliff right in front of me bothers me. Although, I suppose my saying that completely negates the previous statement and the statement that I notice that I don't notice that I'm sitting on an enormous cliff itself is completely self-defeating... but yet I am still bothered. Humph.
So perhaps I do see the precipice, but am bothered by the fact that I can't see what treasure lies at the bottom of the canyon. This is a better proposal for certain. I suppose, then, that I can rule out that I'm NOT bothered by the notion that I might hit the ground and go splat; no, I'm more-than-fairly-certain that my parachute IS in fact inside my backpack and WILL in fact come out and open when I pull the cord. But, then I have to wonder: "Am I seriously bothered by the fact that I don't know if after having what could be the greatest experience of my entire life I'll land and not have a Nissan Xterra to take me right back to Suburbia and a Double Mocha Frappichino to sip along the way?"
One doesn't base jump in order to see what's down there, that's for horseshoes and hand gre--oh wait, wrong euphemism. Eh, maybe it still works...
Base jumping is done for the sheer sensation of falling. And you know what Van Halen says about it: "Might as well...JUMP!"
I have this funny feeling that I'm weightless.
Do you know the one?
It's the one where you feel like you've left both your stomach and your sanity back at the top, and you hope to God that you sprout wings and fly.
It's the one where you feel like you've surrendered to the wind, being okay with it blowing you this way and that.
It's the one where you've let it all go.
It's the one where you have this gnawing, ravenous feeling deep inside you.
No wait... I'm just hungry.
And if we could only see us now...
The words of the dead ring in our ears,
But its only a lie.
The voice in your head brings you to tears,
But you don't know why.
Yes, it's only a lie...
Isn't it?"
"So Strange I Remember You"
- Thrice
I have this funny feeling that I get when I feel that an era of my life is over. Clearly and obviously, I'm only twenty years old, and life is just beginning, and there have been very few "eras" of my life that I have passed through, save junior high school (R.I.P. Five Iron Frenzy), and yadda yadda yadda. Still, the feeling of a coming completion haunts me.
Do you know the one? It's the one accompanied by that powerful scent of nostalgia noxious enough to knock over a cow (I realize this is an odd allusion at best, but I feel it works to give you a sense of the oddness of the previously mentioned feeling). The one that signifies that everything you've ever known is coming to a close, and leaves you wondering, "Where the crap did everyone go?" Yeah, that one.
And yet, while this funny feeling tells me that I'm sitting on the precipice of something incredible, I am for some odd reason failing to comprehend that I'm sitting on the edge of that incredible cliff. A good cliff, mind you, a wicked awesome cliff... but the fact that I can't seem to see an enormous cliff right in front of me bothers me. Although, I suppose my saying that completely negates the previous statement and the statement that I notice that I don't notice that I'm sitting on an enormous cliff itself is completely self-defeating... but yet I am still bothered. Humph.
So perhaps I do see the precipice, but am bothered by the fact that I can't see what treasure lies at the bottom of the canyon. This is a better proposal for certain. I suppose, then, that I can rule out that I'm NOT bothered by the notion that I might hit the ground and go splat; no, I'm more-than-fairly-certain that my parachute IS in fact inside my backpack and WILL in fact come out and open when I pull the cord. But, then I have to wonder: "Am I seriously bothered by the fact that I don't know if after having what could be the greatest experience of my entire life I'll land and not have a Nissan Xterra to take me right back to Suburbia and a Double Mocha Frappichino to sip along the way?"
One doesn't base jump in order to see what's down there, that's for horseshoes and hand gre--oh wait, wrong euphemism. Eh, maybe it still works...
Base jumping is done for the sheer sensation of falling. And you know what Van Halen says about it: "Might as well...JUMP!"
I have this funny feeling that I'm weightless.
Do you know the one?
It's the one where you feel like you've left both your stomach and your sanity back at the top, and you hope to God that you sprout wings and fly.
It's the one where you feel like you've surrendered to the wind, being okay with it blowing you this way and that.
It's the one where you've let it all go.
It's the one where you have this gnawing, ravenous feeling deep inside you.
No wait... I'm just hungry.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Fighting the Cosmic Forces. A Dance of Death, A Call to Arms.
"How are we ignorant of our hunger,
Inebriated by too much sleep?
How have we fallen into so deep a slumber?
How are we so deceived?
It's as if we starve to death at the wedding feast.
DO YOU NOT GET IT?! DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?!
THIS PRESENT DARKNESS SEEKS YOUR VERY LIVES!
WAKE UP, YOU SLEEPERS! OPEN YOUR EYES!"
excerpt from "Opiate"
- Looking for Atlantis
*cue Killswitch Engage*
As I sat in church Sunday morning and listened to an excellent sermon on spiritual warfare, I wondered if I'm alone in my desire to really eff up a demon, Iliad style.
We often sing of battle and the war in heaven and the victory we have in Jesus Christ, and so it boggles my mind how so many of us think we can just watch from a distance as spectators in a galactic coliseum viewing a play-fight of some battle that happened a long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. I see people nod and raise their hands and shout, "Amen!"--selfish people who are more concerned with catching up with friends than being equipped with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace, ignorant people whose belt of truth is conveniently missing and don't know any better, defenseless people whose shield of faith and sword of the Spirit are more fitted for a toy soldier--giving lip service to the god of church or the god of chapel; because those gods can't see the state of our decaying and decrepit hearts, they are far easier to please than Yahweh is.
How do I feel so alone in my desire to take the fight to the Enemy? Has our army fallen asleep?
I can honestly say that I sincerely hope that one day, I will stand on the field of Megiddo along with all His saints and take part in the bloodbath as the skies turn black and the stained fields burn red. I hope that His armies won't be exclusive to the angels, but that, though vengeance is the Lord's, He will share it with His saints. I hope that I will be able to charge the ranks and ramparts of the armies of the Evil One, and that I will take my share of demon blood. I hope that, before they are tossed into the Lake of Fire, He will allow me the chance to fight alongside Him in giving the death-dealers and the damned the death and destruction they so desire.
DO YOU NOT GET IT?! DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?!
I do not fear defeat or the fate of the armies of Light; I know we shall prevail.
THIS PRESENT DARKNESS SEEKS YOUR VERY LIVES!
I fear that you sleeping saints will be caught unawares by the schemes of the Evil One and crushed in the onslaught.
WAKE UP, YOU SLEEPERS! OPEN YOUR EYES!
I fear you will become a casualty.
PLEASE. OPEN YOUR EYES.
"Blessed be the Lord, my rock,
who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle;
he is my steadfast love and my fortress,
my stronghold and my deliverer,
my shield and he in whom I take refuge,
who subdues peoples under me."
- Psalm 144:1-2 ESV
"Wake up from your drunken stupor, as is right, and do not go on sinning. For some have no knowledge of God. I say this to your shame. Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed... When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written: 'Death is swallowed up in victory.' 'O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?' The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ."
- 1 Corinthians 15:34, 51, 54-57 ESV
"Therefore you have no excuse, O man, every one of you who judges. For in passing judgment on another you condemn yourself, because you, the judge, practice the very same things."
- Romans 2:1 ESV
Sometimes I wish I could carry around a sword everywhere I went, if only for reminding myself that we are indeed at war.
Inebriated by too much sleep?
How have we fallen into so deep a slumber?
How are we so deceived?
It's as if we starve to death at the wedding feast.
DO YOU NOT GET IT?! DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?!
THIS PRESENT DARKNESS SEEKS YOUR VERY LIVES!
WAKE UP, YOU SLEEPERS! OPEN YOUR EYES!"
excerpt from "Opiate"
- Looking for Atlantis
*cue Killswitch Engage*
As I sat in church Sunday morning and listened to an excellent sermon on spiritual warfare, I wondered if I'm alone in my desire to really eff up a demon, Iliad style.
We often sing of battle and the war in heaven and the victory we have in Jesus Christ, and so it boggles my mind how so many of us think we can just watch from a distance as spectators in a galactic coliseum viewing a play-fight of some battle that happened a long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. I see people nod and raise their hands and shout, "Amen!"--selfish people who are more concerned with catching up with friends than being equipped with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace, ignorant people whose belt of truth is conveniently missing and don't know any better, defenseless people whose shield of faith and sword of the Spirit are more fitted for a toy soldier--giving lip service to the god of church or the god of chapel; because those gods can't see the state of our decaying and decrepit hearts, they are far easier to please than Yahweh is.
How do I feel so alone in my desire to take the fight to the Enemy? Has our army fallen asleep?
I can honestly say that I sincerely hope that one day, I will stand on the field of Megiddo along with all His saints and take part in the bloodbath as the skies turn black and the stained fields burn red. I hope that His armies won't be exclusive to the angels, but that, though vengeance is the Lord's, He will share it with His saints. I hope that I will be able to charge the ranks and ramparts of the armies of the Evil One, and that I will take my share of demon blood. I hope that, before they are tossed into the Lake of Fire, He will allow me the chance to fight alongside Him in giving the death-dealers and the damned the death and destruction they so desire.
DO YOU NOT GET IT?! DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?!
I do not fear defeat or the fate of the armies of Light; I know we shall prevail.
THIS PRESENT DARKNESS SEEKS YOUR VERY LIVES!
I fear that you sleeping saints will be caught unawares by the schemes of the Evil One and crushed in the onslaught.
WAKE UP, YOU SLEEPERS! OPEN YOUR EYES!
I fear you will become a casualty.
PLEASE. OPEN YOUR EYES.
"Blessed be the Lord, my rock,
who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle;
he is my steadfast love and my fortress,
my stronghold and my deliverer,
my shield and he in whom I take refuge,
who subdues peoples under me."
- Psalm 144:1-2 ESV
"Wake up from your drunken stupor, as is right, and do not go on sinning. For some have no knowledge of God. I say this to your shame. Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed... When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written: 'Death is swallowed up in victory.' 'O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?' The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ."
- 1 Corinthians 15:34, 51, 54-57 ESV
"Therefore you have no excuse, O man, every one of you who judges. For in passing judgment on another you condemn yourself, because you, the judge, practice the very same things."
- Romans 2:1 ESV
Sometimes I wish I could carry around a sword everywhere I went, if only for reminding myself that we are indeed at war.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
The Irony of Drowning. A Picture in Words.
Here's the first post. Yippee!
This has been something I've been thinking about over the past semester. I hope the thinking has been fruitful. :)
"I was swimming through the waves
For what must have been days, but could find no relief.
And when I started sinking down,
I thought for certain I would drown until I saw you in the ocean underneath.
All the the bright colored fish tell of a treasure in a dull shell:
'Such subtlety, so easily missed!'
You, my hidden pearl of pure and perfect love,
And I'm a living example of 100% the opposite of this!"
Excerpt from "Tie Me Up! Untie Me!"
- mewithoutYou
I find the human condition very ironic at times. WE STRIVE SO HARD; we work and we toil, all for things that we think will make us happy. This is obviously the case in our secular, uber-post-modern, materialistic society, where our chief export isn't cars or food or oil or electronics or even a service of some kind, but our culture and our lifestyle. People all across the world hate us for flaunting our money around and using it mostly on pleasurable things, and at the same time want so badly to be able to take part in our post-modern Vanity Fair. After all, isn't this desire to be "happy" the major motivation behind our entire capitalist system, for which we are so prosperous, and for which most of the world hates our guts? The thought, "I work hard so I can get a good job and make lots of money so I can buy things to make me happy," and other thoughts like it are pretty dang commonplace in America, after all.
I think Sigmund Freud nailed how Americans so often think nicely when he said, "They strive after happiness; they want to become happy and to remain so. This endeavour has two sides, a positive and a negative aim. It aims on the one hand, at an absence of pain and unpleasure, and, on the other, at the experiencing of strong feelings of pleasure. In its narrower sense the word 'happiness' only relates to the last." While Freud is incredibly depressing for me to read, and while he completely discounts religious activities with faulty reasoning, he is also a brilliant observer of human nature. As he smartly points out, we want so badly to have these good feelings for ourselves, and so we strive--and strive hard--to keep our "good" feelings.
It even happens to Christians too, doesn't it? We want so badly to DO THE RIGHT THINGS, to read our Bibles and pray a lot, and go to church and serve people, and not sin and to be the "best" Christians we can and strive as to win the prize, because that's supposed to make us happy, right?
We swim so hard, don't we?
But what happens when we get tired? What happens when we can barely tread water? What happens when we stop swimming and start sinking?
We drown.
But it's a funny thing, really, that when we start sinking and start submitting to the ocean, when we feel like we're losing control, when we feel like WE'RE DROWNING, we also figure out that it's OKAY to drown in the Ocean of Grace, and when we do, we find the treasure we had been swimming after all that time.
Ironic, isn't it?
This has been something I've been thinking about over the past semester. I hope the thinking has been fruitful. :)
"I was swimming through the waves
For what must have been days, but could find no relief.
And when I started sinking down,
I thought for certain I would drown until I saw you in the ocean underneath.
All the the bright colored fish tell of a treasure in a dull shell:
'Such subtlety, so easily missed!'
You, my hidden pearl of pure and perfect love,
And I'm a living example of 100% the opposite of this!"
Excerpt from "Tie Me Up! Untie Me!"
- mewithoutYou
I find the human condition very ironic at times. WE STRIVE SO HARD; we work and we toil, all for things that we think will make us happy. This is obviously the case in our secular, uber-post-modern, materialistic society, where our chief export isn't cars or food or oil or electronics or even a service of some kind, but our culture and our lifestyle. People all across the world hate us for flaunting our money around and using it mostly on pleasurable things, and at the same time want so badly to be able to take part in our post-modern Vanity Fair. After all, isn't this desire to be "happy" the major motivation behind our entire capitalist system, for which we are so prosperous, and for which most of the world hates our guts? The thought, "I work hard so I can get a good job and make lots of money so I can buy things to make me happy," and other thoughts like it are pretty dang commonplace in America, after all.
I think Sigmund Freud nailed how Americans so often think nicely when he said, "They strive after happiness; they want to become happy and to remain so. This endeavour has two sides, a positive and a negative aim. It aims on the one hand, at an absence of pain and unpleasure, and, on the other, at the experiencing of strong feelings of pleasure. In its narrower sense the word 'happiness' only relates to the last." While Freud is incredibly depressing for me to read, and while he completely discounts religious activities with faulty reasoning, he is also a brilliant observer of human nature. As he smartly points out, we want so badly to have these good feelings for ourselves, and so we strive--and strive hard--to keep our "good" feelings.
It even happens to Christians too, doesn't it? We want so badly to DO THE RIGHT THINGS, to read our Bibles and pray a lot, and go to church and serve people, and not sin and to be the "best" Christians we can and strive as to win the prize, because that's supposed to make us happy, right?
We swim so hard, don't we?
But what happens when we get tired? What happens when we can barely tread water? What happens when we stop swimming and start sinking?
We drown.
But it's a funny thing, really, that when we start sinking and start submitting to the ocean, when we feel like we're losing control, when we feel like WE'RE DROWNING, we also figure out that it's OKAY to drown in the Ocean of Grace, and when we do, we find the treasure we had been swimming after all that time.
Ironic, isn't it?
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