Beyond Words
Part of the problem for me, I realized, was that I don’t listen for God’s voice verbally. I don’t expect to have a conversation with God in this way.
Part of the problem for me, I realized, was that I don’t listen for God’s voice verbally. I don’t expect to have a conversation with God in this way.
It gazed at me, seemingly serene yet still in obvious misery. Was it questioning its life? Was he brought closer to some meaning in its purposeless sheep existence? Do sheep go that deep?
Instead of being on intimate terms with the backspace key—my usual writing method—I scribble, fill the margins, and use enough arrows to spin my note pad in every direction.
Seeing them encounter the world at large while still protecting them from the worst of it is a balance of restraint on my part as much as it is on theirs.
A brief exploration, choose-your-own-adventure style, as mapped out by an introvert new to a client-focused job. You: “Hi! I’m [insert name]! How’re you doing today?”
Crafting a brand that truly resembled you would require telling stories that don’t end happily. It would mean sharing the scenes where you might not be the hero—you might even be the villain.
I am guilty of letting my care and attention wander with the public eye. I am easily distracted by sensationalist headlines about the latest political debacle. But as Christians, we must struggle against this attention deficit.
The great lie of our lives is that we are the main subject. The great villainy is the idea that we are the heroes. We have a debilitating hero complex.
But what else? What more can we say about heroes and villains? I don’t think it requires much life experience to realize that our heroes are often not so heroic, and our villains hold some goodness somewhere in themselves.
It is nigh impossible to neither seek nor desire our own justice, to remove the impulse for vengeance, to love utter mercy. But so too is it impossible to be holy as He is holy, and still that is our aim.