Most people are tight on cash.  Others just hang onto it oh so tightly except to pay the bills for their carpal tunnel surgery.  The brilliance floating around in the heads of the yet-to-be-born haven’t been manifested thus far.  We’re not exactly the people we want to be.

To put it quick, the world isn’t done.  It’s undone.  And it’s actually kind of unraveling as we speak.

But God, you know.

What’s my job here?
That’s not the most important question.  If you created me to do a job for you, you should have made me so I don’t have to sleep or eat.  If you made me to do a job, you would have created me so I could take care of myself.  So I wouldn’t have to need you.

Purpose.  Significance.  These are the words that have driven me.  Crazy.  The words that make me so unsatisfied with… well, most things.  I guess I just want to run somewhere.  But this world is round.

“Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him.”

We treat church like it’s just another business.
It’s the pure bride of the Almighty God.

We make money so we can invest in food that we proceed to transform into… well, you know.  And then we die, smiling or not.
Isn’t there more, Wim Delvoye?

We struggle to counteract the effects of evil on the world.
Haha.  Really?   Anyway, it’s technically already been done.

If your hope is in this world, I pity you.  If Heaven isn’t real, I pity both of us.  We’re doomed.  Just stop what you’re doing — unless you’re drinking vodka.

We’re afraid of Heaven.  It’s where we’ve belonged all this time.  It’s where the food’s really at.  It’s where the work is satisfying.  It’s not lonely.  You are known there.  Accepted.  Safe.

Complete, but never over.

If you’re afraid to set your mind on what is above, no wonder you feel trapped.  There’s never been a lower ceiling than earth, Sisyphus.  And it’s round here.

If your life were a race, which of the following would you choose as your goal?

  1. A trophy (success that can collect dust on my shelf)
  2. 500 calories (extinguishing the mediocre burger I just ate)
  3. Just… around?
  4. Curing cancer.  (Or least making people aware of it)
  5. My Father’s caring, able arms.

E is that big letter on the eye exam.  Yet I’m blind to the world that’s more real and more important than the one I see.  It’s both a congenital and degenerative condition.

We’re constantly shot down by flaming arrows.  God made us so our flimsy skin is on the outside of our hardened bones, instead of the other way around.  Vulnerable.  Weak.  Even these existed in that perfect Garden.

What did he say was our shield?  Faith.  The companion to the weak.

What is faith?  It means you can no longer be a safe place for yourself.  How could you trust in a vulnerable little human, instead of an eternal vault, Pandora?  A vault with caring, able arms.

If your hope is in this world, I pity you.

Eternal hearts can be affected here.  They can be snatched away.

I’m not worried about the second one.
(If you are, pick up your shield.)

People wonder if we’ll have bodies in Heaven. If we always have joy, how could we have hearts?
Being a disembodied brain is Hell.  I’m 100% sure.

I don’t want to be a task.  A name on the cover that nobody really loves anyway.  A temporary solution.  A wanderer who is, in fact, lost.
I don’t want to be strong alone.

I heard about a man who would cry out on his knees asking God to help him study.  He said we can be satisfied and thirsty at the same time.

Are you not satisfied?  Do you know what it feels like to be thirsty?

The emptiness comes first.

What is the goal?  (Call me Existentialist if you must label me.)
The race is the goal.

Running.

to you, and
with you, and
because of you.

The Trinity at work.