march on

You have to know, it's so damn lonely.

I'm stuck in-between angst, success, sadness and distance from home. I'm laying in a bed that's not my own, and it's hard to believe there's anything beyond this. It's hard to believe that one night I'll roll over to that gorgeous face - that shapeless face whom doesn't know my love, when I can feel my heart lift with flight and quickness of strange happiness. But she will be the absolute best; I remain hopeful.

I'm not going to try and change her. I won't, I just want God to bring me to that place, before I come totally undone.

I'd take up smoking again, if I wasn't so keen on running. Especially if I didn't just get new Nike gear and shoes, or taking future hikes in the New Mexico desert. I won't tread on Indian land, I won't go where I'm not welcome. I just want a symphony to swell behind me, and I want to feel things again.

I see so many people looking for love. I see so many people wanting to belong. I feel like God has me through this perpetual ringer, and maybe it's because of the calling I feel on my life? Maybe it's because of intuition, or discernment. I see blonde women, dolled up, fake boobs, Love Spell by Victoria's Secret permeating off her wrists...and she's looking to find the rest of her life, but the wrong way. I see bro's all stoked about college basketball, drinking like there's no Lent, high on life and hoping to hook up so there's a little lass on their arm by the time they leave the bar. I see the old couple, sitting there, grey and small. They have NOTHING to say. And it's not that silence that is comfortable. They are going through the social cues, but have no interest in talking about anything other than the small talk that comes up on CNN playing on the third plasma TV behind the bar. You can't even hear it, but they seem make conversation off the scrolling ticker, or weather, or stocks. Pathetic.

It's sadness, and madness, but glossed over with neon lights and liquor.

Like I said, I'd take up smoking if I didn't love running so much. But I hope you can see why, exactly.

And these days roll on, without care of me taking notice. I woke up and thought, "What exactly do I have in mind?" And I realized that I'm further from home than just a plane ride and 45 minute car drive from work to my parent's house.

I'm further than prospectively buying a house. Even then, I'm still so far from home. My heart hurts, so heavy, so much distaste for a hurst, or Medicare, or seeing how this nation will perpetually fall apart. So  many people need Jesus, so many people will still deny him to his face. I still know the weight and hurt of my sin, and I still can't believe Jesus loves me, but he does.

It makes me want to read Hard to Believe by MacArthur again. That book ripped me apart.


I think that's what I need, I think I need some good time just being kicked around by the Holy Spirit, for means of conviction and sanctification. I need some renewal. I get that it happens daily in some form, but, I want to seek God in that way, because I'm still so far from home, and so damn lonely.