Some mornings

Some mornings I revel in the Word of God, letting his love cover my insufficiencies, doubts, failures, and bitterness. The sun peeks through the clouds in all its brilliance, bathing stale modernity in vivid teeming light. My thoughts do not dwell on the darkness, on a woman, on the bleak future; instead, I find comfort and security in who He was, who He is, and who He is to come.

Then some mornings, my feet plod along, my soul dragging across the concrete. Sounds echo across eternity, dull, void, and uncaring. God is distant. He cares for others, not me. I have been left broken by my own rebellion, wrestling with an angel of light. But now, light does not penetrate; it only exists as a wave and particle. Peace is but a memory in the minds of the old. Even the miracle of existence drips with mundanity. Anxiety and dead thoughts rise up to fill the void. Cold mechanized air blows out stale visions of lust and betrayal as I drive, windows up. As I turn into my neighborhood, dead leaves twirl and flit across the road dancing to their DNA in the wind. It is July. My burden is heavy, my yolk unbearable. He does not lift his foot from my neck.

Other days, I get home from an exceedingly long day at work, tired and weary, yet bursting with nervous excitement. Then, through chance, I put on Suite Judy Blue Eyes. It’s getting to the point where I’m no fun anymore/ I am sorry/ Sometimes it hurts so badly I must cry out loud/ I am lonely. A connection ensues, a connection to a fathoms deep longing and the unsettled hope of all humanity past, present, and future. Transcendence comes swiftly; tears well up and a smile breaks out, one that lasts. The setting sunlight on the trees creates a golden green eternal milieu to bask in. He is Good; His mercies are never-ending and new each morning.

It is going to be okay Josh. You fear and so you run and hide, drossing your way through life. You hide from your emotions and so you sin greatly and shamefully. Stop dulling your consciousness so that you can hide from the pain—it only increases it and gives license for jealousy and envy to spring up at the thought of a recent girl where before there was only anger and sadness. Do not give in to the cornucopia of demons waiting to be given permission to take over.

Published by Principium24

I want to write, as millions have before me. And I want to know what it is to be human, as few have before me.

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