Before the crucified and Risen Christ, the world bows down
All our history converges on this one important point
and here fortunes will be made and lost
I love you Jesus
Friday, April 10, 2009
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
What Hurts the Most
Looking at her wrinkled hands, I traced the worn purple capillaries pressing against the crumpled exterior. Reaching forth to hold the hand that had held mine since I was a clueless toddler, i struggled desperately before I spoke about Jesus. In a manner befitting the lightning stricken noon day sky, the overcast mood was broken by a flash of white. "Jesus" was the spark from the match that could ignite explosive attention from my grandmother.
"You know I love you alot and that I want the best for you, why not come to Jesus with me?"
Her fingers fiddled as her head drooped into abysmal silence and the pent up quiet released itself in sad intonations known only to her and myself. It was the song of inordinate stares and it draped itself with the shadows of an aged past. Within the bespectacled lady, laid an ocean more vast than my youth could yet imagine and her silence drew from me more love for her. Yet it pricked.
"Your grandfather is there already and so are my parents. Everyone I love is on the other side, and when I die, I must go and be with them. If you believe in Jesus, I might never see you again."
With that, the hands that held mine pushed herself up and walked off to the toilet to wash some clothing. It was a pretext, because I knew she was crying. I stood up, looked at the lightning stricken sky again and sighed.
As i heard this song (by Rascal Flatts, lyrics below), this incident came back to my mind.
What Hurts The Most lyrics
I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house
That don’t bother me
I can take a few tears now and then and just let them out
I’m not afraid to cry every once in a while
Even though going on with you gone still upsets me
There are days every now and again I pretend I’m ok
But that’s not what gets me
What hurts the most
Was being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was tryin’ to do
It’s hard to deal with the pain of losing you everywhere I go
But I’m doin’ It
It’s hard to force that smile when I see our old friends and I’m alone
Still Harder
Getting up, getting dressed, livin’ with this regret
But I know if I could do it over
I would trade give away all the words that I saved in my heart
That I left unspoken
What hurts the most
Is being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do
What hurts the most
Is being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do
Not seeing that loving you
That’s what I was trying to do
"You know I love you alot and that I want the best for you, why not come to Jesus with me?"
Her fingers fiddled as her head drooped into abysmal silence and the pent up quiet released itself in sad intonations known only to her and myself. It was the song of inordinate stares and it draped itself with the shadows of an aged past. Within the bespectacled lady, laid an ocean more vast than my youth could yet imagine and her silence drew from me more love for her. Yet it pricked.
"Your grandfather is there already and so are my parents. Everyone I love is on the other side, and when I die, I must go and be with them. If you believe in Jesus, I might never see you again."
With that, the hands that held mine pushed herself up and walked off to the toilet to wash some clothing. It was a pretext, because I knew she was crying. I stood up, looked at the lightning stricken sky again and sighed.
As i heard this song (by Rascal Flatts, lyrics below), this incident came back to my mind.
What Hurts The Most lyrics
I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house
That don’t bother me
I can take a few tears now and then and just let them out
I’m not afraid to cry every once in a while
Even though going on with you gone still upsets me
There are days every now and again I pretend I’m ok
But that’s not what gets me
What hurts the most
Was being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was tryin’ to do
It’s hard to deal with the pain of losing you everywhere I go
But I’m doin’ It
It’s hard to force that smile when I see our old friends and I’m alone
Still Harder
Getting up, getting dressed, livin’ with this regret
But I know if I could do it over
I would trade give away all the words that I saved in my heart
That I left unspoken
What hurts the most
Is being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do
What hurts the most
Is being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do
Not seeing that loving you
That’s what I was trying to do
Blogging is confusing
To begin, I've actually started on a number of posts but have failed to publish any of them. The reasons range from the mundane to the superfluous. While chomping on about the need for the return of real christian brotherhood, my mother called me out for dinner, and with it went my inspiration and the post. On the other hand, while typing a rather sob worthy post on loneliness, I thought it too personal to have it on the web. The blogger I've come to observe is always acutely aware of an audience and every post published is meant to be read and felt. (Actually, its true of diarists also, for they are sure that someday someone will read them). In the end, We write to be read.
At the heart of the human being is the desire to be known. Yet the being himself is poorly acquainted with himself. He desires a deep relationship because he yearns to have someone understand him and is similarly torn towards loneliness because he fears being known completely. Is it not funny then that beings who have such poor conceptions of themselves are sometimes dead sure that they are capable of knowing their fellow human beings? Is it not odd that we who are able to identify this desire are terribly inept at discovering the means by which we are to be known?
Like in blogging, man swerves for attention; he lectures, shares about the daily happenings, engages in philosophical diatribes, engages in frivolous endeavours like discussing shopping, parties and the like and yet in this all, is scarcely able to communicate who he really is. We write to discover ourselves and every post that we read from other blogs is a prism for understanding the bloggers' attempt at discovering themselves. Blogging is just an expression of this continued search for who we really are, for who we are point to what gives real meaning in our lives. Blogging is no more than literature or art for they are attempts to express ourselves, possibly behind some veiled subject.
Like what I am doing now. In my attempt to express myself, I blog about blogging. Beneath the surface is a personal attempt to discover why I blog myself. I do this by lecturing my readers on blogging :P and I am absolutely aware of it, which is the fascinating bit. I am in the process of deconstructing myself as I type yet it potentially obscures myself.
But let me tell you what my conclusion on this matter is. Going Back to the original idea of how all men desire to be known. I think that we discover who we are only in worship. When our lives are given to knowing and enjoying God, He reveals to us, ourselves, and that happens when we have cast our eyes on Him solely. That is a mystery- for how can it be that when we've stop searching for ourselves, and yearn for Him instead that He would lead us to find ourselves. It seems as if that desire to be known was part of a greater plan to bring us to our Creator. That desire to be known was his way of bringing us to Himself.
I wouldn't know I was a horrid sinner until I looked at Jesus and i wouldn't know more about myself until He made me realize that the heart of my existence laid in being with Him. How odd! that being self absorbed was the sure path for never finding who one really was. But to be self forgetful and instead indulge in admiring Christ was the answer to discovering ourselves. The paradox is perfectly at ease with the stuff Jesus said, about those seeking to preserve their life will lose it and those willing to lay down their lives will find it.
As in blogging, when I use it for worship, I discover its tremendous meaning for myself. But I discover meaning for myself, only when I am not blissfully unaware of its meaning for me but that I am wholly consumed by the need to express Christ's glory. I do not need to write it in anyway, except the way that allows me to tell the world that Jesus is alive, well and gloriously in charge.
At the heart of the human being is the desire to be known. Yet the being himself is poorly acquainted with himself. He desires a deep relationship because he yearns to have someone understand him and is similarly torn towards loneliness because he fears being known completely. Is it not funny then that beings who have such poor conceptions of themselves are sometimes dead sure that they are capable of knowing their fellow human beings? Is it not odd that we who are able to identify this desire are terribly inept at discovering the means by which we are to be known?
Like in blogging, man swerves for attention; he lectures, shares about the daily happenings, engages in philosophical diatribes, engages in frivolous endeavours like discussing shopping, parties and the like and yet in this all, is scarcely able to communicate who he really is. We write to discover ourselves and every post that we read from other blogs is a prism for understanding the bloggers' attempt at discovering themselves. Blogging is just an expression of this continued search for who we really are, for who we are point to what gives real meaning in our lives. Blogging is no more than literature or art for they are attempts to express ourselves, possibly behind some veiled subject.
Like what I am doing now. In my attempt to express myself, I blog about blogging. Beneath the surface is a personal attempt to discover why I blog myself. I do this by lecturing my readers on blogging :P and I am absolutely aware of it, which is the fascinating bit. I am in the process of deconstructing myself as I type yet it potentially obscures myself.
But let me tell you what my conclusion on this matter is. Going Back to the original idea of how all men desire to be known. I think that we discover who we are only in worship. When our lives are given to knowing and enjoying God, He reveals to us, ourselves, and that happens when we have cast our eyes on Him solely. That is a mystery- for how can it be that when we've stop searching for ourselves, and yearn for Him instead that He would lead us to find ourselves. It seems as if that desire to be known was part of a greater plan to bring us to our Creator. That desire to be known was his way of bringing us to Himself.
I wouldn't know I was a horrid sinner until I looked at Jesus and i wouldn't know more about myself until He made me realize that the heart of my existence laid in being with Him. How odd! that being self absorbed was the sure path for never finding who one really was. But to be self forgetful and instead indulge in admiring Christ was the answer to discovering ourselves. The paradox is perfectly at ease with the stuff Jesus said, about those seeking to preserve their life will lose it and those willing to lay down their lives will find it.
As in blogging, when I use it for worship, I discover its tremendous meaning for myself. But I discover meaning for myself, only when I am not blissfully unaware of its meaning for me but that I am wholly consumed by the need to express Christ's glory. I do not need to write it in anyway, except the way that allows me to tell the world that Jesus is alive, well and gloriously in charge.
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