"Love / Hate"

Enemy; familiar Friend. My Beginning and my End.
Broken truth whispering lies... And it hurts again.
What I fear and what I try... The words I say and what I hide
All the pain, I want it to end...

But I want it again
And it finds me; the fight inside is coursing through my veins
And it's raging; the fight inside is breaking me again.

I hate feeling like this. It is at these moments when I feel weakest. Weak compared at least to what I've experienced in retrospect. I hate to pull a Nietzsche quote out so early, but really, he says it best in Beyond Good and Evil, §68: "'I have done that,' says my memory. 'I cannot have done that,' says my pride, and remains inexorable. Eventually, memory yields."

I guess I feel a little regretful at my behavior as of late. I bitterly remember a time when I was happy, and strong in my faith in Christ - the Christ that I was taught. It stings, really. To know that I was once so in tune with things that seemed to matter at the time. The sense of community, the inner peace, and most painfully, the remembrance of constant personal improvement - if even through Divine mandate. It doesn't matter what it really was - if I really was just talking to shadows on my walls or voices in my head, but the experience of it all, the belief that I really was interfacing with the Creator of the Universe was a peaceful thought to me. And sometimes, I could have sworn it wasn't me that played that once-in-a-lifetime lick or fill in the middle of Blessed Be Your Name or Fields of Grace or Indescribable that I know I couldn't have pulled off in a million years.

It is in these moments that I remember that peace. I look back, past the scarred, immolated terrain of the life I have built with my own two hands, and see a gleaming blue sky of innocence and instinct. Blissful ignorance, without a shred of belligerence. It seems that where I once knew how to build bridges and create ties, I know only know how to burn bridges and distance myself from those I loved. Part of me wants to believe that I'm simply making a change in personality and that nothing is wrong here - that cliques are independent of "Good" or "Evil," no matter what the group is. But still, I regret it, because I know for a fact that I have not merely fallen off the edge, but taken a running leap off of it, with a big "fuck You," to the past and the only peace I'd ever known before all of this.

I chose to walk this path. I chose to let this happen. It was my doing, and no one else's. I cannot point this bitter, crooked finger of blame toward anyone. Nor do I want to. I may be an extremely self-depreciating asshole with very little self-respect or reverence in matters of religion, but I do know when I've overstepped certain lines. (No - not the line of personal comfort; I could honestly care less about that one. I'm talking about the threshold between what can and cannot be tolerated. In admittance, I have toed the line, and peered across. I have intentionally refused to explain my views to most people of faith I know that are significantly younger than I, though. This is the first "proverbial safety net" that I speak of often.) But this is all on me, and that's the point I need to make. I don't give a damn whether it's acceptable to absolve anyone else of responsibility for my actions (thinking of the girl, here, whose apparent vitality showed me what love really was, but it was all a lie). That's what I'm doing, because You don't have a monopoly on forgiveness. I don't care if it has any real power - I would willingly sacrifice myself for someone else that hates me to spare them Your so-called 'wrath.'

I've always had a problem with the line between "healthy skepticism and pernicious cynicism." Always. But I used to be able to keep it in check. I almost wish I hadn't studied - because I do have legitimate problems with Biblical Doctrine. I have legitimate problems with Church History, and numerous theological details that just aren't a concern to people. It's not that they're not important, but obsessive digging isn't an inherent aspect of the Christian walk these days, and is in fact treated with disdain and disgust. (It's as if it doesn't really matter what's true as long as it's comfortable and consistent - that's what I find disgusting.)

My problems with Christianity, however, are akin to "throwing a raincoat in the ocean and gawking and how badly it does what it's supposed to do." (I'll never get over that one, Jesse.) They are crippling to me because I chose to see things from this view. I had a choice between embracing my skepticism or ignoring it and going with what I already believed. So, again, the fault is my own. But my problems with Christianity do not have to be your problems, and I've always, always allowed this. (This is the second "safety net," by the way. I have always allowed the retreat into "faith," but never taken it myself.)

I bitterly find myself in deep longing for the peace I once had (however naïve I would make myself believe it to be now). And I hate feeling this remembrance of love. Perhaps nothing is more compelling than a calm quiet, matter-of-fact offering of forgiveness in the face of a destructive windstorm of rage, anger, and pain. That quiet, matter-of-fact insistence that your truth transcends, over arcs, and encapsulates, and loves even those views that blatantly reject it...that is what is moving about it. And I hate that.

But I don't want Your forgiveness. Forgiveness is a concept alluring to anyone, yes. But I don't believe I deserve it, and I refuse to ask for it. That doesn't mean I am happy with where I am in life, it just means I'm aware that it's my own damn fault - not Yours. I hate that You're so forgiving - it makes my blood boil into venom and it's killing me. Sometimes I wish I could be the one that drove the nails in. In the most literal way possible. I want to watch You bleed - I want to watch You show some weakness. I want You to hate me - I want to be able to turn all of this hatred out on you. But all of this pain, anger, and hatred is just... swallowed up in the idea of You that all it accomplishes is that I grow angrier, more belligerent, and more self-hating because of it.

It destroys my humanity and destroys the person I was. It takes away everything I had going for me. I'm not only good enough for You, but not good enough for her, not good enough for them, not good enough for any of this. And I hate that I want to be. I wish I didn't. We humans are inherently selfish creatures, though, aren't we? And You would know that, regardless. You've taken it all - just because You can. But it's not enough. It'll never be enough. I'm not strong enough to do this forever with you. You try to tell me You can heal me but I'm still bleeding. And you will be the death of me. Whether that's tragically literal or beautifully and prodigally metaphorical, I don't know yet. But You sure as hell do, so why should I even try to fight anymore? Does it even matter? No matter where I end up, someone of Yours is going to be certain that I'm wrong and make every move to make sure I know it.

I hate You.

I hate the very idea of You. I hate the person You've let-- no, made, me become. Because at least You can take every ounce of my rage without even so much as a blink. Right now, I know I can't. And as much as I hate You, I think I accept You. And here I am, talking with You as if we've known and loved each other for years. Is this pathetic or what? The dichotomy of Love and Hate, the balance of Faith and Doubt, the inherent contradiction and Divine paradox. I can almost hear You whisper, "Just because I can," around every corner. The war within me pulls me under, and without You, the fight inside would break. Me.

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It's a day of rebirth, a day of redemption, a day to "make all things new."

I hope you all had a wonderful Easter.