Gotcha

It's when you are at your lowest and you have no where to go, that you realize Him. You are sitting at the bottom of the pile on your own, so sick of crying, so worn down and out from all the complications that have seemed to pop up in your life.... one.... after.... another.... that you scream out in frustration and pain and utter failure.

Love me because I suck. Help me because I hurt. Lead me because I'm lost.

When you see the utter darkness that swarms up around you, you realize that there is no one you can really turn to. Everyone tries to offer words of comfort but you just feel like they're pelting ugly bits of reality at your face. Some bounce off... some do not. Some stick in your skin creating tears in the mask that you have set up for yourself but instead of blood that seeps out between your fingers it's cold, stark reality.

Something so true, so horrible and so encouraging misery that literally you scream. You want more. You need more. You need to feel worthwhile and complete. 

It's no fluke that the most sought after books today are self-help books. What if we're painting an illusion for ourselves? What if we have come to believe that because of all our technology and intellect and 'easier' ways of looking at things that we are really not only at the top of the food chain, but rule it with our opinionated, obese and obtuse iron fists? 

People don't really ask for help anymore from God. They feel depressed, fat, ugly... they go out and buy more stuff, start more diets, purchase more make-up... These satiate their pangs of emptiness for a few moments but at the end of the day they are still the horribly vacant shells of the potential glory that they choose to be.

Yes. They choose to be empty. And when they realize the stuff doesn't actually work, they'll go out and buy self-help books. 

The Little Book of Calm - Wilson, Paul

Guide to Getting it On - Joannides, Paul

Networking, The Art of Making Friends - Stone, Carol

If We're So In Love, Why Aren't We Happy? - Page, Susan

Being so struck out sucks. But its the hope that we have the potential to be more. I have found my niche. I have seen how He has sorted through the absolute bullcrap in my life, picked out the salvageable stuff and recycled the rest that ain't worth nothin'.

I think it's safe to say: 'fewf.' With every dignified bone in my body. Thanks a ton, Jesus. I definitely owe you one.