There he is in the desert
When I open my eyes first thing in the morning and the first thought that comes rushing back to fill the void are my indecencies of the night before, there he is in the desert.
When I stumble downstairs aware of and craving the sin I am about to indulge in, when I get back upstairs and I head straight to my laptop to peruse the meaningless instead of craving God, there he is.
When I read of the trappings of wealth and immediately imagine how I can use it as an anvil to bash over the head of those Christians who rub me the wrong way, when I tell myself consciously dozens of times to focus first on myself and my own frailties but then automatically reset to default, there.
When the pain and hopelessness of existence nags, then pulls, then overtakes and possesses me, there he is.
When all this shame and guilt and pain and victimhood wells up in anger and directs itself towards the only true Good, the only One who loved purely, when I wish to stone Him who is without sin for the mere fact of creating this whole damned story which I cannot escape and cannot accept coherently and completely.
“If I said something wrong,” Jesus replied, “testify as to what is wrong. But if I spoke the truth, why did you strike me?” I struck you because a very strong part of me hates the truth and wants to revel in the path that leads invariably to darkness and misery. Yet there you are in the desert, patiently clasping your hands in earnest expectation of the glory that was and is and is to come, and of the love doled out to every individual who desires a personal relationship with the Good.