Telescoping

Sometimes I picture God as a kid at the zoo looking through the telescope at my apelike movements. Scrapping for what little wisdom I can find in the times I have worshipped God in the stars holds me over, but is never enough to carry me to the life I want to live. I slip back into the comfort zone of I what I call a busy industrious life, far away from any mountains swirling with God’s breath. It is a life of little change that is easy to live until diseases rise to the surface.
Temptations tear layers of prayer and concentration away like a haunting ghost. If only life was simpler with fewer potholes, we could drive the road to peace serving all who are stopped at the side of the road. Instead I let my own situations destroy my opportunities to praise God in people. My ego is screaming for attention while the night bike rides tell me to stoop to the broken.
I would much rather just be an artist secluded from the world in mediation. Instead the world says college, job, wife, kids, medicare and death. I want a happy medium where I can serve with my talents without worldly standards. But what I want and what God has planned are two different things; I can only listen.

There is a mystery I don’t plan on solving.

The stars, they shine for You

I have decided I am a teenage Chris Martin (frontman of coldplay): just enough soul searching while living in a “beautiful world,” but mysteriously insecure about genuine intimacy. People say they don’t understand me, never showing my true colors. And that is true, often I cannot get close enough to a person to spill, and it is not a trust thing, it is a personality. Tricks go on in my mind, because I decide this is who I am, who God made me to be. But a social world changes my ideas and God’s ideas, so I slip back into hiding.
But part of me understands that this is wonderful. I hold back pieces that only God can have, and this is the reason why I cannot tell you the real me. No human mind can figure me out; only God knows every single aspect, every situation I have encountered.
Intimacy could be amazing in its purest form, in God. Sharing God’s glory with another person in a way only He can provide promises to open doors I never thought existed. Believing in the person in front of us, not because we can grasp what they are made of, but because our faiths collide for a deeper connection in God. I have experienced glimpses of such intimacy at retreats and gatherings, where the deepest desire is to praise God.
I cannot tell you what I am truly like. I can tell you stories, of when the moon was so bright and I was a reflection, biking down a hill faster than cars with music so loud I could not hear myself breathe, though my heart was pounding like the bass riff in “Shiver.” Some call this paranoia; I call it God.
“I want to fly, I’ll never come down.”