this morning I

I know sharing the prayer below subverts the conclusion of my angst.

But that subversion is the reason I'm sharing it with you in front of everybody.

So many missionaries I know talk about spiritual warfare. And it's said the best thing to do is to drag all the evil out in the open, into the light of day, where we can see it for what it is and laugh at it.

Not that laughter is exactly the response I'm looking for at the moment!

But I'm dragging the evil out in the open for you to examine and destroy...



This morning I don't know why to put clothes on.
What's the point of hanging clothes of this ugly carcass?
I could wear a clown suit and it would be more appropriate!
Oh look. I am wearing a clown suit! My taste is horrible...

This morning I don't know why to eat breakfast.
Why feed this stupid body?
What's the point of chew, chew, chew, swallow
when the food turns to cardboard in my mouth,
and all I'm doing is keeping myself alive
so I'll be able to have another mouthful of cardboard.

This morning I don't know why to leave the house.
What's the point of leaving the house,
when I know I'm just going to come back again.
When the reason I leave is stupid.
All that's going to happen is stupid conversations,
misunderstandings and disappointment.

This morning I don't know why to drive safely.
What's the point of driving safely? Apart from not killing all the other people...
No one else looks where they're going.
Look! That woman's eating cereal and texting!
It'd be much better to go screamingly fast, spin around the corners and get somewhere.
Far away.

This morning I don't know why I should ever write anything again.
I express myself so poorly!
But that's all my ideas deserve.
They're just the derivative ravings of a madwoman.
Dribble.

This morning I don't know why.

To The Cyclist Who Swore At Me

I'm really sorry I bummed you out,
so badly you had to call me a f&%#ing idiot.

Hot sun,
crowded cars,
morning traffic.

I thought there'd be more gap
between me and the next car,
and less gap
between you and me,
one human being and another.

That space instead
would be filled,
with understanding,
patience,
and a shared grimace at the traffic.

But you exaggerated the space between
and filled it with hate.
Presumably on the assumption
that you were simply retaliating
to the same attitude from me,
with equal and therefore naturally justified force.

You lived like it's an eye for an eye world.
And I'm trying not to.
But I fail all the time.

So I cried.
Hot tears,
running down and filling my sunglasses.

I hadn't cried like that for a while.
Humiliation.
Regret.

The melting sunscreen stung my eyes,
perhaps the natural justice you looked for.

Sorry.

church

OH MY GOD!!!


I am so sick to death 
of disputes
arguments
false evidences
boring church services
limited ministries
petty people
facebook slurs
marginalisation
thoughtless repetition
thoughtless repetition
thoughtless repetition
thoughtless repetition
thoughtless repetition
stupid graspings after power
and crappy songs!


I despise myself
and the part I play
in this 
bloated
selfish
scarred
fatuous 
institution!!!


I hate the church!


And I know that for that 
I deserve to die...


Don't you hate it too
sometimes?


Just sometimes, 
when we're all being nasty to each other?


Just sometimes, 
when a pointless argument
wounds everyone in sight, 
needless collateral damage
to already dented egos?


Just sometimes, 
when we spend all our money, 
all our money, 
all our money,
on new paint and new programs?


I don't think you hate us
when we're just struggling to love each other.


When we've realised we could say hello,
go around and watch the footy,
maybe have a conversation in real life
instead of via email.


When do you hate us?

an Alanis kind of day

I don't want to pause and ponder today...

Any spare second I give my brain

it cycles back down quickly to the depths of despair.

I hate myself so much today.

I keep catching sight of my face in my computer screen

and I want to slash it open, smash it, grind it into the ground.

Appropriate punishment of the self.

It helps to talk to you about this, 

helps to tell you. 

And I certainly can't focus on my work right now, 

but I want to focus on something!

Paul would tell me to focus

on whatever is pure and noble and true

something lovely. 

That's the problem, 

I'm stuck with my self, my face, my mind to brood over

again and again. 

I need a circuit breaker.

Something lovely, something lovely, something lovely...

I know this is somewhat stupid, 

this casting around for something good to focus on

when you've promised so much good, 

delivered it, surrounded me with it. 

But I'm to upset to see it right now...


Help!

underpants confession

Dear God,

I'm sorry I judged that woman so harshly this morning,

the woman with her underpants showing under her skirt

as she rode her bicycle to work.

I don't know where those voices came from,

the ones in my head that yelled,

“disgusting! Whore! Should be ashamed of herself!”

Are they really the voices of a mature Christian perspective

of humanity? Identity? Gender?

Or the horrific voices of human nature twisted,

bent out of loving shape by

centuries of habitual blaming of Eve?

Wherever they came from,

please take them away.

Never let me again scream inwardly in hatred

at a woman not trying to be sexual, sensual or tempting,

but just going about her business,

riding to work, focussed on her task, not her clothing.

Thankyou so much that you don't condemn me

for my iniquities,

or shut me out from your love in screaming hatred.

Thanks that you screamed at Jesus instead.

I don't understand why.

He never allowed voices in His head to judge unjustly.

But you forgive me, love me, because of Him.

Thankyou. 

Norway

Heavenly Father,

we pray for Norway.

For families fractured in grief,

for friends shocked into silence,

for mourners taunted into hatred,

we pray for them all.

We pray, we ask, that you will comfort them,

we ask that you sit with them in their desolation,

that because you are wiser than Job's friends,

you will know the best time to remain silent.

For those who experienced the primeval terror

of being hunted in a primeval way,

whose hearts beat in sudden, certain knowledge of

the imminence of death.

Bind up their beaten hearts Lord,

cover their eyes and their ears for a while

so that they can be at peace.

For those you took away we pray

that you will wipe tears from their eyes

and blood from their faces.

For those you left behind we pray

that you will ease guilt with forgiveness

and light night in perfect timing.

We pray for Anders

with his poisonous hate,

mind fractured

heart twisted

a bitter picture

of everything we've done wrong.

Help us not to be like him,

to take instead the first step of forgiveness.