On Love's Purpose
12/26/2006 6:43 AM – 7:05 AM
And at times I manage to forget myself, and then my self is at peace. In the forgetting to act like ourself, we become ourself, but in trying, we achieve. I don’t know the answer, I barely understand the riddle, and yet, somehow, there is peace. Merry Christmas, a day late.
I do wish I could smoke. Smoking while thinking loving thoughts of God makes me feel like so much less of a phony, but, ahh, there I am, without one smoke and this will still do quite nicely. No panic attacks, though some moments of fear of fear over the weekend. I’m hoping that this state of not-afraid will stay a while. Like the rest of my life. I do wish God would grant me knowledge instead of just faith, but I don’t think that happens. I have no empirical experience that cannot be explained by non-God means, but here I am, believing in God and not worried about it. I read Paul and I still think he was an asshole. I read Merton and wish he had chapter and verse. But here we are.
Here we are and all that exists. And all that exists, exists at God’s permission, and, by faith, we say that God is love and therefore, all that exists, exists by love’s permission. Somehow, all this – hot and cold, peace and fear, breaking down and building up, remembering and forgetting, being and ceasing to be – all this, exists by love’s permission. And I do not understand this. But believing that this is love’s sovereignty makes it bearable. No. Makes it good. And maybe it will only appear good to me for a little while. Perhaps the great fear will return and I’ll wish that I could simply cease. But it isn’t here now. And I am. And the world spins on and I will be forgot, yea, all will be forgot and this too is love’s permission. At the core of all being are the purposes of love and that is an excellent thought. Is it a cheap thought? I don’t know. I merely know that it feels better than a sneering one, right now. Perhaps I will slip again. Perhaps I will fall. Somehow, this too is love’s purpose. And that isn’t a cheap thought. My heart knows the weight of it. But I exist right now, and right now, love’s purpose is reason enough for happiness.
posted by Spike at 4:12 AM
1 Comments:
had a day off from work today, and spent some quality time writing rather than doing the errands i should have done. Also caught up on your blog... glad you're still writing, although I miss mr. id.
What's up with the panic attacks, my man? you're one of two people in my list of friends with a knack for worrying me. the other is Arthur, a kind of young naive you without the ability to calculate.
I won't worry though, as i write I realize we were all stronger than we knew. If you could escape the closing walls, the iron clutch of HCA without committing suicide or losing your sanity, you can survive daily life in the real world.
It hurts to face the real world, just like it hurts to call on Aslan and not have him rescue you. To have monthly bills and no safety net. To have your youthful strength fade. to sleep in an empty bed that belongs to a heartless landlord.
We live like shades, and leave little mark on the world around us save our debts and our dreams.
and yet, somewhere in there we managed to change each other. You saved me from self destruction more than once, and in my good dreams I believe I returned the favor. If that is the only positive thing I ever did with my life, and the rest was exhaled in anonymity, it was still worth the run.
we have to hold those little coins we find when digging through the crumbling, worm-riddled earth. If we lose sight of the treasure, the dig was for nothing.
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