I'm Back....

September 17, 1995

guess i wasn't the best one to ask
me myself with my face pressed up against love's glass
to see the shiny toy i've been hoping for
the one i never can afford
---Indigo Girls, "Love Will Come To You"

I've become the epitome of what I oppose
---Six Feet Deep, "Angry Son"

Mike is getting married. One more, and my only response is anger. I can't force myself to be happy. One more person who has attained the goal to which I aspire. Love. Happiness. Some sense that what I do in life has a purpose, that it matters to someone. It could be a lover. It could be a friend. It could be a church. It could be God. I have no idea what it means for God to love me because I have no idea what to expect, if I have the right to expect anything, from someone who says they love me. People say they love me, and then I look at their response to my life- passive disinterest, until I contact them and they claim to love me once again... and the cycle goes around. The only energy expended is that needed to produce the words.

So when I consider God, I' not consumed by positive feelings. Not anymore. At best, I'm apathetic; at worse I'm angry. If a father was as neglectful to his son as God the Father, Mother, thing or it is to me they would have him in jail. But God's ways are mysterious and we shouldn't attempt to understand them; everything that happens is because of his (hers? its?) providence.

So why are we expected to praise God when good things happen but refrain from blaming him when bad things happen? If God has the power to stop something from happening and stands idly by, is he not as guilty as the person who knows a child is being beaten and doesn't call the police?

When I think of God now, I think of a concept, an idea; I no longer think of a person. If I believe in God at all. That's a paradoxical statement coming from someone who has surrounded himself with the trappings of Christian culture, I know. And I'd really like Christianity to be meaningful again. But if God is there, then he dropped the ball. He took his ball and glove and went home.

______________________________

December 7, 1995

So what next, God? Am I being punished? Do you want me to become some Southern-talking KJV fundie babbling on about the end times? Do you want me to do the Latin Mass thing? Do you want me.... ? Interesting question. I know I want you. Do you want me? Or am I the court jester in the kingdom of God, forever batting at the carrot at the end of a stick?