Stages come and go. Good times pass, rough times pass. Then, life comes to a stand still every once in a while… ¤

That purgatory palace of neutral belonging in the calm. Not sure whether to call it peaceful break or a dried up desert that I’ve lost myself in. Either way, I think it’s necessary to say I’m definitely not depressed where I am, but I am quite far from the place I desire to be, what I want my heart to grow into. Inspiration is hard to come by when my eyes are stuck locked looking down at my motionless feet.

The thing is, comfort is abounding, opportunities to move are everywhere, but I still cling and scratch for more lifeless static to drown myself in.

“What’s in the static that is comforting?” I find myself asking. What is so enticingly desirable about nothing, numb, netherous nonsense?

Is it the escape? Is it due to a deep apathy in my core? A coping mechanism in some chaotic distortion of reality? The subtle jittery electrical nuances I find behind the glass are a twisted perception of amusing, adventurous change. Each flicker of light its own false promise of an image greater. I cling to these tiny confused things, harboring hope in the broken bits of tile fallen from the shattered remains of a glorious mosaic.

Video games, TV shows, pornography, news, selfies, films, articles, podcasts, reddit, with a forgotten hope in the background, hand-tuned out and forgotten without shame. Oh, the relevant insights they will give me. I place the order believing a promise, and I’m still waiting on the delivery on the second half of my self-assembled dining room table. Yeah, there are a lot of pieces missing here while I’m waiting on the next episode to come out.

I’m aware of each nerve as that old familiar anxiety of impending actions and consequences flow downstream, whipping around the banks of my mind, playing out all the factors like late night crime scene reenactments. Chilling, stark imagery, with no distinct big picture. Directionless, mind numbing anxiety coupled with a misunderstanding of what I actually desire out of this life.

We are allotted this short time for something, right? We scramble so hard for meaning deconstructing all around us as if there is one. It’s innate to want an explanation as to why we care about ‘why’.

A reminder to myself: look around at the blessings. Not the directly material, but gifts such as the hands you have, the thoughts you get to think, the soft and delicate moment of rest that you seek. It can’t be crazy, nor evil to desire personal joy. It is ingrained in us to seek greatness outside of ourselves, and personally I’ve already found that channel, and I know I love that program…but I pause for only moments, only to continue flipping through the noise once again.

I’ll end this quickly and directly. I see myself and my generation clinging to the fleeting inadventure of the idea of adventure. Tragically we see the appeal of discovery, but we are consumed in the sad poison of presupposed understanding and projected identity. I petition those that hear to seek what lies beneath all these woes, laughs, and appreciations for greatness.

Let’s pray that we all find hope in the gift Christ bought, and if you aren’t of that persuasion, I’m hoping too for you to catch a glimpse of what I’m seeing, so that worship is placed where it is due, and so that nothing may sink us. Not fear, not relevance, not man, not falsely-guided passion, not death. Remind me to step out, friends. The truth is out there, and it is there not only to be known, but to be cherished by all who will.