Yeah. It's a lame play on words. But that's how I feel often enough. I feel like I'm trying to live up to some outdated principles that no one else goes by anymore, and I have as little chance in living up to them as I do in beating back a tornado.
If it was only the tornado principles, I think I could handle it. I mean sure, cyclones make your heart explode, but I have a higher chance of anal cancer in my family than I do of heart attacks, so I'm not really fearing the whirlwind. No, what makes my journey difficult is the act wanting in and of itself; both wanting to succumb or wanting to persevere seem to be a constant plague. Either I feel regret for my soul or I feel a righteousness in its state, a mind-bending depression or a disgust with my entire surroundings; either way, I end up filled with hate for something.
It's ridiculous. If God wants me and I feel bad about it, I am feeling bad that the most powerful being in all existence--hell, the being that made existence--wants to be with me. It makes yo wonder, though. You would figure that an entity this powerful would be able to snap his proverbial fingers and not only would I not feel bad, but I'd be up there with him.
But maybe that's not what it's about. It's not about physically being with God, is it? It's about seeing him in the little things. Maybe if I can learn to see God in the little things, then it's no longer about adhering to a strict outdated list but about supporting a new friendship. Something to ponder, at least.
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