Homeless

I want to be normal, really I do. I've been struggling with comparison, looking at myself & not being quite satisfied with the collection of flesh & blood & thoughts & emotions & personality & experiences & random collection of stuff that makes up 'me'... i've been comparing myself too much with others.. Mostly it's that stuff of being Adam in the garden, feeling my nakedness & shame & that I walk from relationship & love & stand there going, "I was naked & afraid & so I'm hiding myself"... It's not hiding 'cause I'm so ashamed of who I am, it's hiding 'cause I'm afraid I won't be loved for being me...

& yeah, so I've been sort of trying to relax with this. For the most part it's been semi, psuedo-working... OK, so it works once in a while. Every so often, I'm cool & collected & feeling pretty happy & together. Other moments I'm comparing myself to others & either trying to be normal or extraordinary, or extraordinarily normal, or normally extraordinary, or some combination of impressiveness without weirdness that will make me look like a sane individual... someone who the world around could be friends with & sort of think is not off his rocker...

& part of this effort has been not writing. It hasn't been that hard. I've been busy, haven't had much to say, in general & specifically not for public consumption... But yeah, it's meant a hiatus from writing & posting things on the blog. 'Specially 'cause people read the blog & worry....

So yeah, again, overall there's been some really great moments over the last week or so where I've felt pretty comfortable being me. Even comfortable around people... Even went through a really low day feeling totally useless & like an oxygen thief (stealing air other people could be using) &, oh, managed to counsel myself off the ledge quite effectively & then ended up in a place where I felt 'useful' not in the sense that I did something grand, but just that I was me & God maybe borrowed my tongue for a while or maybe it was just that being me was/is actually a really good thing.

Anyhow. today at work, I had a good day. I was up super early (in a 7AM - super early for me anyhow). Managed to keep my spirits high even amongst all the BS & stupidity & managed to be sort of useful & productive & feel like I wasn't totally stealing my paycheck & managed to surf past tiredness & boredom to actually keep a flow of activity through the day....

...I felt normal... well, kind of...

I started the day ripping a bunch of music onto the computer to listen to. Started the day with Eminem's "Loose yourself". It's one of Em's tunes that I actually really like & listening to it today I felt again the desperation of

"You better lose yourself in the music, the moment You own it, you better never let it go You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow This opportunity comes once in a lifetime yo " - Eminem

and this song carried me through the majority of the morning. On the outside, I'm quiet, mild mannered engineer wandering the halls or sitting at my cube. Inside, I'm screaming the lyrics... feeling like this wild eyed, half crazed rapper with hungry kids, late on the rent, knowing that his families future depends on getting that one lyric right, seizing that one moment of being lost in the moment... feeling the desperation of life burning a hole through my chest, feeling the pressure of that one moment, that one shot, feeling the sand slipping through the hourglass knowing that there's only one life that I'm given & wanting to seize each moment & drink it deep...

This, by the way, makes it hard to not throw something at management & run into the sunlight to escape the 9-5..

...but I behaved &, after lunch settled back into being a good little worker bee without too much interruption. At the end of the day, I'm listening to Matisyahu's "Youth" & rediscovering the album after Rebekah & Nicoleta played me a track from it.... at the end of my work day, I end up listening to "Jerusalem" over & over again....

Jerusalem, if I forget you,
fire not gonna come from me tongue.
Jerusalem, if I forget you,
let my right hand forget what it's supposed to do.

In the ancient days, we will return with no delay
Picking up the bounty and the spoils on our way
We've been traveling from state to state
And them don't understand what they say
3,000 years with no place to be
And they want me to give up my milk and honey
Don't you see, it's not about the land or the sea
Not the country but the dwelling of his majesty

Rebuild the temple and the crown of glory
Years gone by, about sixty
Burn in the oven in this century
And the gas tried to choke, but it couldn't choke me
I will not lie down, I will not fall asleep
They come overseas, yes they're trying to be free
Erase the demons out of our memory
Change your name and your identity
Afraid of the truth and our dark history
Why is everybody always chasing we
Cut off the roots of your family tree
Don't you know that's not the way to be

[chorus]

Caught up in these ways, and the worlds gone craze
Don't you know it's just a phase
Case of the Simon says
If I forget the truth then my words won't penetrate
Babylon burning in the place, can't see through the haze
Chop down all of them dirty ways,
That's the price that you pay for selling lies to the youth
No way, not ok, oh no way, not ok, hey
Aint no one gonna break my stride
Aint no one gonna pull me down
Oh no, I got to keep on moving
Stay alive

[chorus]

And again, in the middle of my happy, productive day, my heart is captured again. I can't read my note's 'cause there are tears in my eyes. I start aching for a home I haven't seen yet, Jerusalem old & new whisper to me & call me as one of her sons to remember her stones & the dust of the city... my heart starts to pray for the peace of Jerusalem, 3000 years of struggle & conflict weighing on me. Isaac, Ishmael, their battle still raging through the centuries, promises of blessing for each & relationship with their true Father, the God of Abraham....

...and yeah, maybe this is a good thing that in a moment I'm in this zone of aching, groaning for kingdom, for peace, for reconciliation, for the plans of God & the kingdom of God to be made manifest... but I feel like a freak. I thought about writing something on facebook - updating my status to "kirk is praying for Jerusalem", or "Kirk is thinking about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict" or "Kirk is homesick for the old/new Jerusalem" & I stopped myself 'cause I'm thinking people are going to come with the white jackets if I'm not careful about my self expression in public forums...

...and so my 'normal' work day ends as it began - calm on the outside, aching, craving, groaning, screaming on the inside... and somehow locked in prayer that comes in bursts of petition, and long stretches of soul-ache...

Finally home, I settle back into normality. Supper, some TV, start mowing the lawn. An hour & a half later, the jungle is tamed & the lawn is now at levels acceptable for the neighborhood beautification group, the nazis that worry about how tall your grass is & how many dandilions you have. I don't really know my neighbors, to my shame, but I feel fear of their impressions of my messed up little lawn...

Exhausted, I rest in the tub for a while, then flip on the computer to surf the web for a bit & decide to thrown on Tiffany's latest album. yes, Tiffany, the chick singer from the 80's. She's still producing music, to her credit. Albums are maybe not the most noteworthy, but they don't suck. They're pretty good actually. Honest truth is that I had a crush on her when I was 15 (she was 16) & so I buy her albums as they come out, partly to follow her career, partly supporting her career as someone from my generation still pursing her dreams, partly as penance or something for silly teenage crushes.

I'm half listening to the album while doing other stuff & worrying about how to fit things into my week, when I'm interrupted by this song:

Streets of Gold - by Tommy Wright

He stands on a street with a jar at his feet and his arms stretched t'ward the sky
God's word in his grip, there's a song on his lips I would not be denied
Winos walking past see the change in his glass and the devil takes control
They commit their sin for a half pint of gin to help fight off the cold
They laugh & they joke, tugged his old tattered coat saying preacher pray for me
Satan made us his slaves, can three whores be saved? Will Jesus set us free?

He prays Father please forgive them, oh they know not what they do
If there's no more room in heaven for these forgotten few
Lord, give this beggar's mansion to these lost wandering souls
and when I get to heaven, I'll sleep on the streets of gold

He lays down his head on the mission's last bed as they turn out the front porch light
There's a knock at the door, is there room for one more? I'm sorry not tonight
But he gives up his place for the sidewalk on 8th where the angels take his soul

to a mansion so fair built for many to share there by those streets of gold
He prays Father please forgive them for they know not what they do
If there's no more room in heaven for these forgotten few
Lord, give this beggar's mansion to these lost wandering souls
and when I get to heaven, I'll sleep on the streets of gold

And I'm broken open. I'm choking on sobs as I think about being homeless in heaven, about Paul going, "I'd rather choose hell if it would mean one soul of Israel makes it into glory", about the heart of sacrifice & how it's my heart, too... and i question my home in the suburbs & my normal, safe life & I question how much I give & yet just pray for those who are outside & who don't have & i know that it's kind of OK, too... that God's got this heart of mine & there's plenty of room for sacrifice to come, plenty of spaces to lose myself in the moment... I think of Zephaniah 3:12 that I read long ago & seemed to misinterpret (maybe) that there would be 'poor' people in heaven & that somehow this shows the true beauty of God's people that we are made to minister & we are never left in this place where we don't have opportunity to show love, to give, to serve, to care for those who are in need... Reading it now, I maybe don't see the context of 'heaven' at first glance, but I do see why Jesus tells us that the poor will be always with us (Deut 15:11, Matt 26:11, Mark 14:7, John 12:8). We all need. We all have things to give. The best parts of humanity are when we give with a liberal heart...

...and so yeah, again, in the 'safety' of my suburban house, I'm caught with this desperation, this call to love & action. What do I do about it? Well tonight, I write this stuff & I sleep. Is this good or bad? It just is... tomorrow the sands start flowing again for another 24 hours & we see what gets fit into the moment... as I live the tension between grabbing for each instance & trying to have the faith that God has numbered my days & will give me as many as I need to accomplish his puposes.....

But yeah, part of me is getting more tempted to say @*&# normal.... maybe I should just settle in to being weird.