Reconciliation
Redemption
Forgiveness
I use to think this stuff was rare because no one had the faith to follow Jesus in what He said.
Now I think it's because it doesn't happen. It's a fairy tale.
Sunday night we had a "roommate meeting" to see if we are all resigning the lease. What it turned out to be in reality was Ellen expressing all of her pent up judgments towards me.
She called me a sexist.
She was brought to tears at the thought of how I lure and rape women under the same roof as her.
She called me unapproachable.
Like an alcoholic father filled with rage at any moment she felt she couldn't talk to me.
She called me disrespectful.
I would lecture her and never let her finish sentences.
I sat there for the better part of an hour as she read her well organized, well thought out notebook of my flaws, sins, and insecurities.
As I expressed my shock and confusion I begged for opportunities for reconciliation, for a chance to save the four of us living together. I thought surely an ordained pastor of a church plant who prides itself on meeting the sinners of the world at the fridges would have compassion.
But she expressed how she is unable to actually live with such fringe people, however we may be able to be friends at a very safe distance.
I felt condemned.
I felt hopeless.
It felt like I was being dumped in the worst sort of way.
She was rejecting me and judging me saying that living under the same roof as me is a task she finds unbearable.
It brought back letters left in my room from my mom saying we should keep our distance.
It brought back memories of phone calls with Whitney begging for another chance.
It brought back my heart read to Bea begging for forgiveness.
Have I changed?
Can people change?
Is forgiveness actually possible? I don't mean small forgiveness. I mean the real ones. The times when I hurt people I care about very deeply. The times when they are brought to tears because of my words and actions. The times when they finally say ENOUGH to me. Can people come back from things like that?
I see Jared going through his divorce.
I see his brother Jordon going through his too.
No redemption.
Love keeps no record of wrongs.
Is that even possible? What would that even look like?
An abused wife keeping no record as her husband beats her again?
Of course love keeps records how can it not?
I spend my time in these churches, these places preaching redemption but I walk out of the building and I hear the homeless speak with such vengeance. Or I see people I love deeply tell me to stay away.
Forgiveness?
Love?
Grace?
I have my doubts.
I saw this on instagram and I know I feel like a damn middle school girl for reading this stuff and finding it interesting but this is the true story of life. This is reality. Not this redemption reconciliation forgiveness grace stuff. The truth is we cannot undo what we have done.
Once something is broken it will never be what it once was.
This is my life. A collection of broken plates that I pray to God to restore them. I have yet to see one plate restored. I walk this life like a bull in a china shop
breaking broken people.
The longer you live the harder it is to hope.
The longer you live the harder it is to open.
I wonder if everyone views me as this sort of man.
Angry
Stubborn
Sexist
Cheap
Does everyone I know talk about me this way behind my back?
Why wouldn't my friends tell me?
Why wouldn't they try to lift me out of this pit?
This whole situation makes me want to become completely taciturn.
I'm afraid to be who I am
I'm afraid to say what I think because maybe what I think is mean, sexist, evil.
I'm tired of my own thoughts.
They keep me up at night. They are ceaseless during the day. Focusing on flaws and worries, no matter how hard I try to change even when I feel as if I am making progress someone in my life whom I care about will have to sit me down and explain my caring for them is hurting them and they'd rather not be around me any longer.
I'm afraid to go to Europe for two weeks with these three people.
Will I annoy them to the point where their trip is ruined?
Will I offend them so there is angry silence?
Will I attempt to be helpful but only end up sounding superior and controlling?
Who can anyone trust?
Who can I open up to who won't throw my vulnerability back at me as a weapon?
I spend all this time, these past months feeling like I've changed. Like I'm not angry any more and I'm winning the battle against fear. Then in one slow conversation with Ellen she undoes any thing I thought I had done.
I am exactly the same as I've always been.
Angry
Worried
Stubborn
These are the words spoken about me behind my back these are the planks shooting out of my face that everyone can see.
I feel insane at the thought of my self perception versus the perception of everyone who sees me.
Like I'm looking into a trick mirror and I see a man who is making progress to be a better man but everyone sees the reality of my delusion I'm exactly who I've always been.
Now I am back to battling self hatred as Ellen as brought train loads of ammunition and reinforcements to the fort inside my mind to continue to war against myself. Only now I'm afraid to talk to anyone about what I think and feel. What if my thoughts are too ugly and I lose what friends I have that remain?
It's better to fight this battle alone in my head than risk being alone in this world.
the Soil & the Sun - An Unnamed Song
Redemption
Forgiveness
I use to think this stuff was rare because no one had the faith to follow Jesus in what He said.
Now I think it's because it doesn't happen. It's a fairy tale.
Sunday night we had a "roommate meeting" to see if we are all resigning the lease. What it turned out to be in reality was Ellen expressing all of her pent up judgments towards me.
She called me a sexist.
She was brought to tears at the thought of how I lure and rape women under the same roof as her.
She called me unapproachable.
Like an alcoholic father filled with rage at any moment she felt she couldn't talk to me.
She called me disrespectful.
I would lecture her and never let her finish sentences.
I sat there for the better part of an hour as she read her well organized, well thought out notebook of my flaws, sins, and insecurities.
As I expressed my shock and confusion I begged for opportunities for reconciliation, for a chance to save the four of us living together. I thought surely an ordained pastor of a church plant who prides itself on meeting the sinners of the world at the fridges would have compassion.
But she expressed how she is unable to actually live with such fringe people, however we may be able to be friends at a very safe distance.
I felt condemned.
I felt hopeless.
It felt like I was being dumped in the worst sort of way.
She was rejecting me and judging me saying that living under the same roof as me is a task she finds unbearable.
It brought back letters left in my room from my mom saying we should keep our distance.
It brought back memories of phone calls with Whitney begging for another chance.
It brought back my heart read to Bea begging for forgiveness.
Have I changed?
Can people change?
Is forgiveness actually possible? I don't mean small forgiveness. I mean the real ones. The times when I hurt people I care about very deeply. The times when they are brought to tears because of my words and actions. The times when they finally say ENOUGH to me. Can people come back from things like that?
I see Jared going through his divorce.
I see his brother Jordon going through his too.
No redemption.
Love keeps no record of wrongs.
Is that even possible? What would that even look like?
An abused wife keeping no record as her husband beats her again?
Of course love keeps records how can it not?
I spend my time in these churches, these places preaching redemption but I walk out of the building and I hear the homeless speak with such vengeance. Or I see people I love deeply tell me to stay away.
Forgiveness?
Love?
Grace?
I have my doubts.
Once something is broken it will never be what it once was.
This is my life. A collection of broken plates that I pray to God to restore them. I have yet to see one plate restored. I walk this life like a bull in a china shop
breaking broken people.
The longer you live the harder it is to hope.
The longer you live the harder it is to open.
I wonder if everyone views me as this sort of man.
Angry
Stubborn
Sexist
Cheap
Does everyone I know talk about me this way behind my back?
Why wouldn't my friends tell me?
Why wouldn't they try to lift me out of this pit?
This whole situation makes me want to become completely taciturn.
I'm afraid to be who I am
I'm afraid to say what I think because maybe what I think is mean, sexist, evil.
I'm tired of my own thoughts.
They keep me up at night. They are ceaseless during the day. Focusing on flaws and worries, no matter how hard I try to change even when I feel as if I am making progress someone in my life whom I care about will have to sit me down and explain my caring for them is hurting them and they'd rather not be around me any longer.
I'm afraid to go to Europe for two weeks with these three people.
Will I annoy them to the point where their trip is ruined?
Will I offend them so there is angry silence?
Will I attempt to be helpful but only end up sounding superior and controlling?
Who can anyone trust?
Who can I open up to who won't throw my vulnerability back at me as a weapon?
I spend all this time, these past months feeling like I've changed. Like I'm not angry any more and I'm winning the battle against fear. Then in one slow conversation with Ellen she undoes any thing I thought I had done.
I am exactly the same as I've always been.
Angry
Worried
Stubborn
These are the words spoken about me behind my back these are the planks shooting out of my face that everyone can see.
I feel insane at the thought of my self perception versus the perception of everyone who sees me.
Like I'm looking into a trick mirror and I see a man who is making progress to be a better man but everyone sees the reality of my delusion I'm exactly who I've always been.
Now I am back to battling self hatred as Ellen as brought train loads of ammunition and reinforcements to the fort inside my mind to continue to war against myself. Only now I'm afraid to talk to anyone about what I think and feel. What if my thoughts are too ugly and I lose what friends I have that remain?
It's better to fight this battle alone in my head than risk being alone in this world.
the Soil & the Sun - An Unnamed Song