Once again I conferred to my friend Alec for blog post ideas. She’s good with the deep stuff. The other stuff too, but deep stuff in particular.
“write about what gives you hope. What lifts your head up. What gives rise to your dreams and makes you feel like you just might be ok?”
You know… that sounds alot like a good definition of inspiration. Maybe she’s looking for more clarification on that subject. If you are, I’m onto you. If not. Then… congrats on getting an answer.
About 2 years ago, I attended the youth group at the church we are currently members of for a few weeks. I say for a few weeks because I felt so discouraged by it. The first time I walked in, and they said hi, welcomed me in, and introduced me to some people. But then that was it. After that I stood to one side with people walking by me every second, for about 20 minutes before the service started. Not one person said hi. That went on for a while, until I gave up. There was no interaction for me there, I knew nobody, and nobody took the time to know me. But who knows, that could have been me not trying as well.
But you know, I went just the other day, reasons unimportant, and I got the usual welcome at the door, but the first thing that happened, was the pastor’s incredibly busy son stopped and talked to me, for as long as he could before he had to go run sound or something. One person I knew came over talked to me, and introduced me to some people, I met the band’s keyboardist,and we talked until service started, which was pretty cool. I felt accepted. But that wasn’t as cool as when these people I’d just met, who liked alot of the same stuff I did, saw me sitting in the far corner, and walked over, and told me to join them, or they would sit with me, either way they didn’t want me sitting alone. The last time I went, I sat alone the whole time, except for this youth pastor who saw me. He was the only one, and he couldn’t stay long. I never saw him again.
That, gave me hope. That made me… happy. Things like that, images of people being reached out to, people being healed, a difference being made, a battle won for good. That person sitting in the back row ignored, imagine who they could be. They could be there as one final attempt to reach out for help, and plan to go home, and kill themself. That happens. They could be suffering through a divorce, and be blaming themself, planning to go home and cut themself, because they got no relief from church. They could be struggling with an addiction, like porn, or drugs, and feel so convicted that they decide to get help. And go home and fill that emptiness with immoral things, because no one took the time, to talk to them about how they were doing, to try and help them. How are you,? was once a question that meant something. Now it’s a courtesy. More like a curse. Few things, can get a rise out of me. But nothing hurts more than seeing that. Seeing lives fall apart, while people just watched. Nothing makes me hate myself, more than knowing that I stood by and watched a life fall apart.
A life. One of the most beautiful things in the world, right up there with love, is life. Life filled with happiness, and hope, and second chances. You can get another chance. But you can’t get another life. Another life filled with potential, to love, to laugh, to create, to draw, to sing, to play. Life is beautiful, and should be lived for God. And watching something so beautiful fall, kills me. Breaks me into too many pieces to count.
We were meant to live for so much more, than we are. Have we lost ourselves? We were mean to live, to love. Love, true, faithful, honest, uplifting, encouraging, healing. Love, is the most powerful thing in the world. Dwell on that, think about the true power that comes from love? I believe that all power either comes from love or hate. Have you ever seen someone, or heard of someone, who lived in a world of their own, without love? All alone. It’s the worst. I can think of nothing in the human world, to top that as the worst sight, feeling, whatever, of all time, and I truly believe, that is what hell will consist of.
So what gives me hope is any story of redemption, of love lost, life lost, and regained again. Simple, right?
