Oct 15, 2015

y'all think Christians think they're so good

People think like oh Christians oh the cross oh so righteous and holy they got their ticket to heaven they're trying to be good kids etc. But the Church is truly a place for broken people. It's a hospital. I love God because I have seen how the state of my soul drags me to the depths of ruin, of despair, with a multitude of things that glisten and seem to promise happiness but never, never do. I am sick, and the Lord heals me. I am a wreck, and He drags me out of the depths daily. My soul leads me to trivial pleasures and I cling to them like as if they give me meaning, and I am always left on the ground, in a puddle, crying, hopeless, wrecked. God saves me from myself. God knows that I will never be able to find meaning on my own, so He takes me by the hand. He gives my heart the energy it needs to keep going. Every day I see the darkness. I am a very emotional person, and I am often reminded of how easy it is for me to fall down the endless pit again. Every day I am reminded of what I would be without Him, and it is a very, very scary thing. My soul would have turned black years ago in my endless search for satisfaction. I cling to God because it is all I can do.

I have Bible verses all over my room and spiritual reminders everywhere and a cross round my neck and a cross on my wrist not because I want to look super holy, but because I am so weak and forgetful that I need reminders everywhere. I wish these verses and reminders were imprinted deeply in my spirit, such that no one would need to see it but they're always there for me, but that isn't the case. I am simply too spiritually forgetful. And this world is brutal. God created all the beautiful pleasures, and the world invites you to turn these pleasures into God. There is only One who gives a peace that is unlike what the world gives.

Oct 13, 2015

time travel

we are products of time travel. we all have specks of the past on our skin, under our flesh, woven into our muscles. a word someone said when you were fifteen. it made its way into your gut and stays lodged there. they say when you look at the stars at night you’re looking billions of years back, but the past is closer to you than you think. just look at the scars on your wrist.

there is a black mark on my forearm that carries the hurt of yesteryear. it speaks to me still, and will continue speaking to me until we are given renewed and perfect bodies at the second coming. if you look beyond the surface, there is an imprint on my waist. a branding iron left my chest burning and then cold, but still raw. and there is lava in my heart that is more often volatile than dormant, a testament to the tectonic activity that started when the plates split eight years back. as we go about our days little shreds of time tear themselves out of the immortal fabric and stick to our souls, and try as we might, we cannot shake them off.

Oct 10, 2015


you say you haven't been very much into music for a while now, which is uncharacteristic of you, and very weird.

i played your firefly song and the home one a couple of times today. there is a gentle spirit to these songs, and to you, and we often like to reappropriate meanings to suit ourselves even when it's absurd, don't we. today has been a silent day, which has been good. i think it is good for my soul. less prodding allows for healing.

i haven't written anything in a long time. my favorite piece is still the one i wrote before entering college, gentlemen. i reworked it last summer. i have had no inspiration in a very long time. i used to write multiple times a day but i lost the gold dust. but look, the dead thing twitches. tiny pulses. small hints of the crafting work starting up again. just the slightest sign, but perhaps it's on its way. perhaps i am getting the right emotional input now, and learning how to tease it out the right way again. and i am well aware that this means that the choice i might make tomorrow will result in me losing this gold dust once more. but it's okay. this, and that, is cause for a bit of hope.

Oct 8, 2015


you cannot help
but circle the event horizon at the speed of light, tugging on an invisible thread
from the center of the hole. you love the exhilaration of it but it
also makes you sick to the core. you wish it would stop but you just
keep spinning, and you draw closer and closer and just one more tug and you’re
falling, oh but it feels so beautiful to fall. you can’t imagine it was bad before.

he pulls me back to the shore,
choking and there is saltwater in my eyes. at the point of death i was hit by
an erotic ecstasy, the most intensely incredible rapture
that almost led me to open my mouth and gasp.
i stopped myself in time. i would have died.

we are all lonely, ever since the fall, and that loneliness can only be cured in the loving of jesus christ - and by loving, i mean taking enjoyment and rest and solace in him. sit by him like mary, sit in his warmth like you would on a sunny day. at the heart of christianity is deep joy, and a kind of happiness that makes you serious.  -- evannia