Impossible...
Love doesn’t make sense. It makes rational, logical, sane people
insane and ridiculous. It takes those with fear or hurts and makes them
whole. Takes small people and makes their heart grow three sizes. Love
can make or break a child, creating a man or woman of resolve and
strength or a starving creature still seeking that which was lost to
them, without a clear picture of what they’re missing.
Times can change, but our desire for love remains. Songs go on and on about true or awful romances. We stand and watch lives fracture, all of us in pursuit of love or defeat in the chase, on the path to feeling wanted. Today’s definition is anyone’s human prerogative, but what we all want is the experience. To be swept off one’s feet, make us forget all else, but what if opposites were the reality?
What if love meant standing firm, tall, arms outstretched to the sky as love descended like a deluge, a rain so heavy, you plant yourself and pray in fear and trembling. Love that applies weight to your head and beats a rhythm painful and breathtaking on your skull as it seeps into your skin, pass bone and organs to the soul, to the spirit craving deep within. No romance that just knocks you down, but love that penetrates deep, to the dark places we hide and hurts we ignore, to the good, the bad and the ugly in our cellars. What if this magical thing we call love was infallible?
What if it sank into every deep part of you and made all the mistakes invalid, all problems fade into a different light, into a different perspective? What if the experience made you the person you want to be? What if love is more than the songs say? What if the music only got half of it correct? What if, yes “love is all you need”, but you never experience the right kind of love? Only the half-hearted, broken, earthly kind and never the real, raw, complete, impossible love.
Love that doesn’t care if you’re broken down, that doesn’t judge or keep records, and never, ever stops. It won’t stay where it’s not wanted, but it desires you just the same, no matter how many times you push it away. Love that soothes the razor cuts and oozing wounds as much as the pretty fronts we show. Love, that’s not about your eyes or hair or sweetness of touch, but of your soul, your wholeness. The image our human hearts keep trying to mirror... The reason we ache in a room while surrounded by other humans... The reason we throw ourselves out, in hopes of getting it right, is this idea of impossible Love.
But the minute one mentions this love and then turns to speak of God, many people stop will listening, but He is the source and the experience we need. He is the peace we can’t get elsewhere in life. The heart will long and dream and desire, but human love just isn’t enough to satisfy, with or without respect and songs of romance. We want and need the love that overtakes us like a tsunami, where we brace ourselves and take the impact. Raw, real, complete love.The love of a God who willing killed his son on behalf of a world of besmirched, broken screw ups. We don’t want to ask it, but our spirit does anyway, “Does this love exist?”.
Yes. See God is big, though silent at times, he is moving in the spirit world in order to reach our lonely hearts. He is unfathomable. It is easier when one can see and understand something, such as failure, and when you can’t feel God or even comprehend the size of his hand, even though we all sit in his palm, it demands belief. To say God can do all things, to believe God will do all things is the collision of faith and trust. The smashup of a symphonic creed, that unending pulse that penetrates the souls and spirits of every generation, slicing through our defenses to our very core.
But life is full of things that pull us in all directions, ad libitum, still craving raw love. We feel incapable, that sensation of helplessness. A fatigue that is more than the weariness of our bodies, it’s an effrontery to the All-Powerful Being who wants to carry all loss and weight we should try to garner. We’re alienated and homeless in soul, quaking lest someone figure out the depth of our inadequacy. In our own minds, trying to be enough apart from the God who wants us, just because He wants us. His sons and daughters, his children.
You see, faith like a child is necessary. Only children are so amazing as to believe, because to not believe would be irrational. Only adults need to practice trust, because they’ve forgotten unrelenting belief, like a story or lullaby they stopped repeating. Or the love stories they say that aren’t true because they just bring heartache and agony, impossible love never got anyone anywhere, except to a cross, that is...
Impossible love is really the point. The point where our fears have to fade, our failures can’t be as prevalent, in the light of a God who sacrificed his boy, his son, his child for the souls of each screwed up generation of a mortal race. Silly human dreams and a misconception of a small God can’t stand against the reality that an innocent man died. Not a martyr for the Catholics or the Jesus-freaks, or unjust trial to be debated, but for every kid playing, woman doing, man working, child believing, acting, hiding, wishing... He died, heart stopped, blood and water ran out of a once-warm body.
No fear can stand before such love and sacrifice. No lies can withhold, no failures remain when one confronts the reality that maybe all dreams will fail and be shattered, but tomorrow the point is still his love really is, can and does exist. His love saved and that’s all that matters. Those that repeat love songs on their iPod all day, seeking and longing for the ineffable, heart all in pieces, are loved by a man who died for their sake, and that is why we do it, why we ache and pine, why we seek when the motive for seeking is still unexplained.
We risk it all to try, to know, to understand. We claim to be safe and guarded or we brag that we’re outside of the boat, but either way we’re pulled to the impossibility that an instrument of torture could be our hope. That the blameless would die for the guilty. That the pure and grotesque would be gathered into one family. We’re mesmerized and that’s why we do it, why we have faith, why we hunger, why we believe, why we trust. Because His love is impossible and yet it exists
8/2013
Times can change, but our desire for love remains. Songs go on and on about true or awful romances. We stand and watch lives fracture, all of us in pursuit of love or defeat in the chase, on the path to feeling wanted. Today’s definition is anyone’s human prerogative, but what we all want is the experience. To be swept off one’s feet, make us forget all else, but what if opposites were the reality?
What if love meant standing firm, tall, arms outstretched to the sky as love descended like a deluge, a rain so heavy, you plant yourself and pray in fear and trembling. Love that applies weight to your head and beats a rhythm painful and breathtaking on your skull as it seeps into your skin, pass bone and organs to the soul, to the spirit craving deep within. No romance that just knocks you down, but love that penetrates deep, to the dark places we hide and hurts we ignore, to the good, the bad and the ugly in our cellars. What if this magical thing we call love was infallible?
What if it sank into every deep part of you and made all the mistakes invalid, all problems fade into a different light, into a different perspective? What if the experience made you the person you want to be? What if love is more than the songs say? What if the music only got half of it correct? What if, yes “love is all you need”, but you never experience the right kind of love? Only the half-hearted, broken, earthly kind and never the real, raw, complete, impossible love.
Love that doesn’t care if you’re broken down, that doesn’t judge or keep records, and never, ever stops. It won’t stay where it’s not wanted, but it desires you just the same, no matter how many times you push it away. Love that soothes the razor cuts and oozing wounds as much as the pretty fronts we show. Love, that’s not about your eyes or hair or sweetness of touch, but of your soul, your wholeness. The image our human hearts keep trying to mirror... The reason we ache in a room while surrounded by other humans... The reason we throw ourselves out, in hopes of getting it right, is this idea of impossible Love.
But the minute one mentions this love and then turns to speak of God, many people stop will listening, but He is the source and the experience we need. He is the peace we can’t get elsewhere in life. The heart will long and dream and desire, but human love just isn’t enough to satisfy, with or without respect and songs of romance. We want and need the love that overtakes us like a tsunami, where we brace ourselves and take the impact. Raw, real, complete love.The love of a God who willing killed his son on behalf of a world of besmirched, broken screw ups. We don’t want to ask it, but our spirit does anyway, “Does this love exist?”.
Yes. See God is big, though silent at times, he is moving in the spirit world in order to reach our lonely hearts. He is unfathomable. It is easier when one can see and understand something, such as failure, and when you can’t feel God or even comprehend the size of his hand, even though we all sit in his palm, it demands belief. To say God can do all things, to believe God will do all things is the collision of faith and trust. The smashup of a symphonic creed, that unending pulse that penetrates the souls and spirits of every generation, slicing through our defenses to our very core.
But life is full of things that pull us in all directions, ad libitum, still craving raw love. We feel incapable, that sensation of helplessness. A fatigue that is more than the weariness of our bodies, it’s an effrontery to the All-Powerful Being who wants to carry all loss and weight we should try to garner. We’re alienated and homeless in soul, quaking lest someone figure out the depth of our inadequacy. In our own minds, trying to be enough apart from the God who wants us, just because He wants us. His sons and daughters, his children.
You see, faith like a child is necessary. Only children are so amazing as to believe, because to not believe would be irrational. Only adults need to practice trust, because they’ve forgotten unrelenting belief, like a story or lullaby they stopped repeating. Or the love stories they say that aren’t true because they just bring heartache and agony, impossible love never got anyone anywhere, except to a cross, that is...
Impossible love is really the point. The point where our fears have to fade, our failures can’t be as prevalent, in the light of a God who sacrificed his boy, his son, his child for the souls of each screwed up generation of a mortal race. Silly human dreams and a misconception of a small God can’t stand against the reality that an innocent man died. Not a martyr for the Catholics or the Jesus-freaks, or unjust trial to be debated, but for every kid playing, woman doing, man working, child believing, acting, hiding, wishing... He died, heart stopped, blood and water ran out of a once-warm body.
No fear can stand before such love and sacrifice. No lies can withhold, no failures remain when one confronts the reality that maybe all dreams will fail and be shattered, but tomorrow the point is still his love really is, can and does exist. His love saved and that’s all that matters. Those that repeat love songs on their iPod all day, seeking and longing for the ineffable, heart all in pieces, are loved by a man who died for their sake, and that is why we do it, why we ache and pine, why we seek when the motive for seeking is still unexplained.
We risk it all to try, to know, to understand. We claim to be safe and guarded or we brag that we’re outside of the boat, but either way we’re pulled to the impossibility that an instrument of torture could be our hope. That the blameless would die for the guilty. That the pure and grotesque would be gathered into one family. We’re mesmerized and that’s why we do it, why we have faith, why we hunger, why we believe, why we trust. Because His love is impossible and yet it exists
8/2013
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