Right Now

I'm lonely.
I feel alone.
Those are two different feelings.
I really feel like God has me at an arms length.
I should curse myself for not feeling the warmth of his bosom.
And if not, I should curse myself for not reveling any touch of his hand.
But I am not a peasant. I have been promised his audience and his heart and his love and his understanding.
They're mine. I did not earn them, but they are mine. And now that they are distant, I want to know what's up.
If you won an ipod and it broke, wouldn't you still hound customer service? Isn't that, in a way, an even deeper expression of gratitude and ownership and responsibility? Am I hidden in a hidden-in-God-Christ? It doesn't feel like it.
Do I need the threat of 'destruction coming nigh my dwelling?"
I feel lost without the struggle.
I want peace, but I don't want emptiness.
The brawls and the falls lend such a richness to life. As though I were hanging by an eternally strong, and eternally thin thread.
Crazy life is exciting.
And now life is quiet, and I can't find God at all.
Part of me wishes for some deep drama to take place.
I want to ride the coaster.
Those have been my only recipes for a meeting with God.
Doesn't he only come near at crisis? I know that's not true.
But the worse I feel, the harder I seek.
It's my fault. Maybe I'm crying out for parental love and understanding.
Am I not to know God's love as I know the love of my parents? But there is a hole in my parent's love. I have felt from God, a love that my parents can't pronounce. And likewise, I have felt freedoms and restrictions given by my parents that God would never allow. (Where 'never' and 'allow' are nonabsolutes)
Incomensurate.
I certainly don't feel KNOWN by my parents.
I don't know what's the matter with them.
They're the greatest people I know. Period. Nobody comes remotely close to them.
But they still don't seem to understand me, or my love.
They want their love a certain way. Which is not the way my love comes.
I have tried to play love in the key of Them.
And I learned a whole new kind of beautiful in the process.
It's not pandering. It's serving. Real, faithful service.
But this other song is inside me waiting to be writen.
Doesn't the opening act give you what you want, while you walk away challenged by the headliner?
Nobody leaves mumbling about the opening performers.
It's the main act that's the thing. You can't control the main act.
My main act, my headline, is on its way...
And as far off as it is, it resounds mightily.
What will it be?