Conversations ceasing with
Adolescents are absorbed,
Elders edge engrossed,
Infants intently immersed.
We pool collective,
and critical thought.
Entangled in the web,
Zoning, tripping, breaking.
Locked in the grid,
slave to the code’s grind
that eats away community
and stamps damnation to our heads.
It’s too noisy to hear the small voice calling,
pleading pardon’s permission
when sins go
recanted or repented,
and where worship waxes
with love for God above all else
and our neighbor as thyself.
Some editing could be applied but I’m not sure what to do quite yet. I’ve been too addicted to blogging and social media. I need to get away.
I keep telling my husband something has got to change. I want a moment of stillness, of silence so I can regroup, recharge, and reconnect with God. I fear I’m treading with the masses. How do I look any different than the agnostic in modern day America?
I want change, I need change. It has to start within. I’m not sure how to transform other than I need to sit at the foot of the throne. I ‘m not finding the space to do that when I’m grinding away at a job that peels me away from my kids, simply to pay the debt I probably dug myself in to when the cycle all began. I’m tempted to throw caution to the wind, selling all possessions and traversing the world. Am I too concerned with my parents and society’s approval? There is something to be said about the responsibilities I have now. Am I truly listening for God? If so, surely contentment can be found in where I’m currently positioned. I shouldn’t need to escape.
In fact, the WWW does just that. We escape—ourselves, others, and in turn, authenticity. We can pretend. We can judge more easily. When interacting face-to-face, we typically tread cautiously, usually more aware that humanity stands before us. I feel like I’m dying, and not to myself as Christ commands me to. I’m puffing up in pride and in turn, I’m noticing my precious faith plummeting, unnecessarily challenged by myself.
Dear God, I want to let go of that which I have thought dear, but in truth, is idolatry. I need to get to a quiet space, early in the morning so I can converse with God. That space doesn’t require a trip around the world, but just might very well be between the crevices of my couch. I need to replace complaining with gratitude and criticism with encouragement; isn’t that what talents you have given me? Why have I abused them so? Oh God forgive and please, come quickly so I escape this ‘apocalypse’.