I have some news. I would like to announce that I have begun writing a book. I am hoping to complete the text by the end of August 2017. This may be a little ambitious but some friends of mine set the deadline and I am going to do my best to stick to it. This book will most likely be about some of my struggles and my journey especially over these last few years. I want to tell some of my story and some of the disciplines that have allowed me to see the beauty of Christ. It is going to be entitled: Famine of the Soul (at the moment at least).
This book is an invitation into my pain and struggle. It is an invitation to brokenness. It is an invitation, hopefully, to hope as well. The last couple of years have been interesting to say the least. They have been painful, stressful, and anxious times in my life. However, I have learned more about God during these times than any other in my life.
This is a poem that I wrote for the book and it is a little teaser. It is a look into my cynicism. It is a look at my pain. I have wondered if anyone else has felt this way when walking into a service on a Sunday morning. Anyway, here is my poem entitled “Church”:
Doors open.
I am met with an outstretched hand.
A smile promises to me that this place is safe.
Everyone walks the same.
Everyone looks the same.
Everyone is smiling.
How is everyone okay?
How can everyone be this happy?
Where is their hurt?
Where is their pain?
Is it hidden?
Mine is right behind me.
Mine is in my lungs, stalking my every breath.
Mine is rattling the cage of my soul.
Mine is a roaring lion bursting with every thump of my heartbeat.
Mine is in the tears that are swelling within my eyelids.
My hurt must hide though.
My smile must conceal the tears.
My strength must outdo the roars.
My interest in others will keep the cage from shaking too loudly.
My silence will keep my breathing steadied.
Numb, numb, numb.
Maybe next week will be different.
Another set of doors opens.
The lights fade as darkness meets the fog on the stage.
More happy faces appear.
So much energy.
So much happiness.
Is anyone else in pain?
Is anyone else hurting?
I join the chorus of happiness for fear of being the outcast.
I chant the anthems unsure if they mean anything to me.
The music fades.
A man appears offering hope.
Hope that I cannot seem to fully obtain.
This hope has been sought after for years.
I want this.
The hope still does not come.
Doors open.
I file out; nothing’s changed.
Numb, numb, numb.
Maybe next week will be different.