Monday, November 10, 2008

Honesty... Part V

I've missed this thread. It's predecessors (I-IV) aren't on here so don't bother looking for 'em. Honesty... i forgot what you tasted like. So bitter, but that dull sting is so therapeutic. Addictive almost. Like the scratchy sting of a tattoo, just as permanent and twice as much of a rush.

Honesty.... Honestly...? I'm just as clueless as i was when i started this thread a year ago. And ten times more frustrated. I know i'm not old but i feel like i'm behind the curve. Not as far ahead as i should be... but is that the case or am i just buying into the crap? There's a poem by one Sam Shoemaker called "I Stand at the Door". In it, he describes this door that separates two worlds. The dark hopeless searching outside. Blind groping hands looking for the door with "the latch that only opens to a man's own touch." And inside the knowledge of God, massive and terrifying. Where some  "Go into the deepest of hidden casements, of withdrawal, of silence, of sainthood." But he explains, "I stand by the door." Neither going in too far for fear i'll forget those blind groping hands - those men who, on cold streets, die for want of what's within their grasp. Nor going out too far for fear that i may forget the warmth and security and glory that lies behind it.

I've always felt like my place is by the door - like i've been called to stand there - and it's driving me crazy little by little.

You see i know where my name is written. I know where my devotion lies. But what the poem doesn't mention is the voices. On both sides. It's not just our poetically genius creator that speaks but those in the dark have their opinions as well as those saints. Both are very loud, and both make a good case, but more importantly both cloud the voice i'm dying for. 

Honesty... Honestly...? I know what i'm called to. I know what i'm meant for. More than a conquerer, bread with a spirit of terrifying power, but i'm just honestly not strong enough to fight the aching in my joints to be either here or there. Feeling like a stranger in this land, but lacking the support to back it up sometimes.

Honestly... i want rest... 

Crap. Even just now, as i typed those last three words, it kicked me in the teeth. The only time i have rest is when i'm where i'm meant to be. In the middle of chaos holding onto a peace and fighting to share it. It's when i try to break away from it, to a traditional rest, that i lose peace. I guess we're only meant to operate successfully where we were made to be... no matter how chaotic that place is.

Honestly... i'm kinda speechless now.

Maybe standing by the door is close enough to hear that voice after all.

2 comments:

Lauren S. said...

Love it, Dave. I'm curioius--what did you mean by "traditional rest?" Here, now, earth, flesh? I grasp very much at this ache for honesty, for something...I would assert that this ache exists within all of humanity, but mostly people ignore it, fill it with shit or just move passively forward through the door...

I like following your thoughts.

David Gregroy said...

Traditional rest - The common standard of what security and normalcy. Instead of the chaos that God's called me to live in. For the creature created for the latter, it's the only place he'll find peace.