[I listened to Skillet and Frou Frou as I was working out this evening. Can you tell?]
I used to play a little game when I was in high school. I had only started listening to secular music (via the radio) in eighth grade or so... up until that point it had been 80's/early 90's Christian rock only. But I didn't want the romantical focus of the songs I was now hearing to make me sad for the relationship I didn't have (I don't change much, eh?) so I often chose to hear them as love songs to or from the Savior rather than between two human lovers.
Skillet's album, Comatose, is written (in my opinion) in such a way that most of the songs can be taken either way - communicating with God or with a lover. Tonight I made the conscious decision to listen to them from the Christian perspective.
It made me angry. Like, white knuckled, lips curled into a snarl, legs pumping furiously at the pedals, angry.
It wasn't the first time it's happened. Even in the last week.
(through clenched teeth and eyes winced shut) "He knows what He's doing. He loves me. It doesn't matter who else does or what anyone thinks of me. If no one else loves me for the rest of my life, He is enough. I WILL be content, dammit!"
I don't usually even get to that point lately.
I'm usually already asleep again, blissfully hiding from the inner turmoil by hitting the snooze button. For the 370th time.
But where's the next point that I need to get to? That's a terribly unholy way to end the story, hhh. Something's not connecting. I should be left with hope. I SHOULD be left content. I DO have everything I need in Him. Why, instead, do I respond in anger?
It's not anger at Him. You might argue with me on that, but I'm pretty sure it's true. Instead, it's anger at myself. Not angry that I don't have something I want but cannot have, ask for and do not get... but angry that it bothers me so much. That I'm not beyond this. That I do still want it so badly, to the point of blindness. Not in a demanding, "Don't I deserve this one thing?" sort of way, but in a desperate, pleading, pathetic "Don't I get to be happy... somewhere down the line?" sort of way. For crying out loud, if anyone should have figured out how to deal with this issue, I'd think I would have. I've had plenty of time to practice.
But spitting the truth at myself doesn't seem to work. "Have you ever felt forgiven?" "No... no, not really. But so what? They're just feelings." "Emotions don't decide truth, but they're a part of who we are, and there needs to be a communication between head and heart."
I think somewhere in my past, quietly, without my notice... my wires were cut.
[I've probably written this post before, perhaps nearly word for word in some places. I'm just seeing it again, from a new angle... still dealing with the same old struggles]