I’m not going to try to convince myself that I can write one post each day this entire month. I’m not going to commit to attempting a frenzied novel (with crappy dialogue… seriously, I can’t write dialogue at all); I don’t want that pressure. I am however going to find my heart, and the process is going to be messy and hard.
I want to write about a better Christianity, about dreaming better dreams for the people I love, about stirring better dreams in the dust of other humans. I want to write about Jesus, about how he shows up where you don’t expect him, about how he lives most brilliantly in the margins, how he is the one challenging me to challenge the stuff we have smeared our faith with. I want to talk about the Bible, about symbology or the every day, about prophetic lives and joyous tables of the supper of the Lamb. I want to draw deeply and let these ideas flow like a river of ink from my bones…
I can’t feel my heart any more.
It’s not that I’m full of apathy or that I don’t care about these things I wax eloquent about. Quite the opposite really. I do care about them, and when I think of them, I feel the spark of light and fire kick at the embers of my heart… embers that are buried beneath the ritual of the work week and needs of life. Buried embers aren’t without heat and light… it’s just smoldering instead of blazing.
I want to be flaming.
I miss the drive of creativity that would force me to write songs and poems on napkin backs. I miss bursting at the seams with enthusiasm over some concept that broke my heart into a hundred thousand pieces and reflected it’s image all over the landscape. I miss being inspired. I miss being the good tired from all night reading, writing, smoking, street wandering sessions, watching the dawn come up over my coffee cup as I slowly made my way to bed amid a waking world. I miss the outlaw, the chaos, the rule breaking bend that I used to have about my life, determined to not live like others, but instead to be happy.
I miss my heart.
Messy and Hard in November
This month, I’m not committing to any program, theme, idea, or title. This month I am going to write messy and hard, barely a pause to edit. November is going to be a month I learn to beat my heart in my chest and on my sleeve again. I will learn to give ear to the ghostly whispers of the holy as I beg God to let me burn again. I will let myself be judged by others for what I do, not for what I don’t do. I will let go of my self guilt and throw my self into the path of oncoming failure, knowing that I can make the path diverge into the unknown; nothing is set in stone. I will learn again that the words of life are the words that tell me who jesus is, who i am, and how I can have hope in the midst of the search for my smoldering heart. I will let my rebel ‘YALP’ sound from the apartments of suburbia, realizing that I am still here and there really are no rules for the who I happen to be.
I will be messy and hard. I will be ragged and unkempt. I will let my heart bleed.
It will be messy and hard.
But my heart is worth it. You who I am writing this to, you are worth it. The Christ I want and love is worth a life lived in this raging love that I crave, the kind of love that is vulnerable, messy, and hard.