Predestination

Okay, so I have a confession to make. I didn't actually know until seven days ago, that the Catholic Church does not support the idea of predestination. I had thought it was up to our own interpretation and I was leaning towards the "destiny" side of the scale. So, naturally, my world has been turned upside down in this last week and I've had to reconsider a lot of things- in my own life, and in Evelyn's.

The only thing that is certain is that we have freedom of choice, and I've found that I've had to go back to that foundation and work from there.

Let us consider, for instance, the scenario of a woman praying for her future husband. God knows who these prayers are for because God is outside of time and already knows who she will choose. But that's exactly it: she has to choose who he will be. Perhaps she has many choices. Perhaps there is not just "one perfect man" for her.

Then there is the knowledge that God has said He has plans for our lives- perfect plans (Jeremiah 29:11), but it is a matter of whether or not we choose to follow those plans. That there are many roads that we could travel, but one road in particular is better than the others.

So, now, I guess it is my choice that when I come to a crossroad in my life, that I would seek out His perfect plan, and then choose whether to follow it or not.

Choosing choices,

Hear those voices.

Lead me, guide me-

Walk beside me.

Take some time,

Don't wait for sublime.

Speak! -Don't speak!

But I am weak!

Please, I beg- Oh!

Don't say no.

But then to say yes-

Oh what a mess...

You clock, won't you slow? 

Do not worry, I will go.

No! Tick a little faster.

It's you, you're the disaster.

Okay, I surrender.

Treat me tender.

Actually, I change my mind-

I will wait for the other one, blind.

Crossroads

Have you ever entertained the idea that perhaps the world around you doesn’t actually exist? Like that it all may be in your head? I’m thinking A Beautiful Mind... The Matrix...

I think we take our existence for granted.

I mean, let’s think about this for a second, what proof do we actually have? Perhaps we’re kidding ourselves, or perhaps there’s a huge amount of trust involved, but I guess we don’t have much choice, do we?

If we did come to the conclusion that what we see, experience, and feel each day isn’t real, then what could we actually do about it? What would you do? Would you cast aside your newfound belief or would you dare to uncover the truth, even if it meant your entire world as you knew it would come crashing down?

Evelyn is at a crossroads. Which road will she take? I don't think she even knows it... because you know what? I don't even know it, and I made her. I find myself asking "Where do I want her to go?" But I guess the better question is "Where would Evelyn choose to go?"

Indeed, where would Evelyn choose to go?

Winter

Winter. It is at our doorstep. It doesn't knock politely or ring the doorbell once. No, it doesn't even wait for the door to be opened- it finds any nook or cranny, any hole you hadn't noticed or were too lazy to fix. It seeps through, quite unnoticed, until the chill reaches your skin and runs down your spine. Then you start to notice the walls, the floor- they become your enemy, unable to defend the battle line as they too allow the cold to surround you. There is no escape, no warmth to be found and you feel as though you might suffocate from the intensity of it all... Winter is cold in more ways than one.

Not only is it cold, but dark too. A sinister, foreboding darkness of nothing good to follow. Winter is the enemy. It gets all the blame. It takes all the blame. But it doesn't care. It will continue to haunt you, year after year. It waits in the shadows, like a fox, licking its chops, ready to pounce at just the right moment.

Yet some winters are colder than others. And Evelyn is about to enter into her coldest and darkest.

Let me choose for myself

Shaphan's demeanor is that of someone full of certainty. His is self-assured in all he does. Then, in all his humanness, he pushes his self-assurance to become defiant; stubborn that he is right. The mistake throws the balance of Evelyn's world. It reveals a part of Shaphan that I, and Evelyn, did not realise was so extreme. Suddenly Evelyn treats him with wariness. She treads carefully around him, not knowing what to expect. The messed up part is that she knows that he is right. But it is because she doesn't want him to be right that she resists.

Let me choose for myself.

Let me make the mistake.

Give me a chance to live for myself.

Give me a time to change alone.

Leave me be! I internally cry.

But outwardly I allow the push.

I can do it! I defy.

Yet instead I suppress the child inside.

By the winter -persistent and strong-

The tree is forced into hibernation.

By the spring nudging it along

The flower is told its time is come.

To live a life by its own choosing:

If not even nature has a chance...

To have a life that's not worth losing:

Oh surely, what chance have I?

Loneliness

You've probably heard this before: "feeling alone in a room full of people." You've probably felt it too. Perhaps though, you are fine throughout your busy day while the people mill around. Perhaps you are fine even, as you prepare yourself for bed at night. But it is then, as you lay beneath your warm covers, that it hits you like a cold patch under the blanket. You not only are alone, but you feel alone too.

Where is the remedy? To invite others into your bed? Hardly. It would only make the hole inside you gape wider. So, where is the remedy? A pet? No. They only stifle the loneliness, helping you to believe it isn't there. But it is. So. Where is the remedy? They say that God should be our comfort. But what about when you don't feel His comfort? What about when His flickering presence isn't enough. OH! Where is the remedy?!

The truth is that none can fill this hole but He. Try as we might with people, possessions, ideals, we fill up this hole of loneliness until we don't feel so alone anymore. Eventually, however, these things crumble and we are left feeling even more alone then when we started.

Perhaps the answer is persistence: seeking His comfort to the point of living in the knowledge of His comfort until eventually we begin to allow ourselves to experience it.

Good Friday

Last Friday we remembered the sacrifice that Jesus made for us by dying on the cross. I contemplated deeper this year what that actually meant for Him. What did He feel as He hung, nailed there by His own people?

I was asked to create some kind of "performance" for the twelfth station ("Jesus dies") at my local "Stations of the Cross." I wrote a piece of prose and read it out whilst playing an amazingly moving song by Sigur Rós, "Vaka." Here's the prose:

Naked. Exposed. Everyone could see me.

But none really saw me.

It was my heart that you were blind to.

It was my heart that you refused to see.

After all I had taught you,

There was nothing I could do but hope.

After all I had fought for you,

There was nothing I could do but wait.

You spat at my existence,

Your disgust reigned down.

Your hateful eyes pierced me

Deeper than any iron spikes or crown of thorns.

I hung low, sucking in air as my body would let me.

Cramps rushed my muscles.

Blood pounded my veins.

There was no peace to be had.

In my exhaustion you mocked me.

In my agony, you jeered.

You knew no better; you knew not what you did.

So my nature poured out forgiveness and pleaded the same of my Father.

You turned away from me

As I took on your agony:

Pain beyond all pain, fear beyond all fear.

I was abandoned.

Never did I turn my back on you,

Never did I condemn.

No, it was I that could see only backs.

And it was I that was eternally judged.

Rejected,

My heart lamented,

Sorrow abounding.

I ached with the grief of your hardness.

Time pressed forward,

Each moment unbearable.

I faced too many moments-

Six hours to be exact.

Every movement caused a ricochet of pain,

Pulsating through my every vein.

I shifted my weight and found little relief-

Instead a new pain to endure.

The wonder of human creation:

What once brought life and pleasure,

Now brought a seemingly endless death.

Death could come no sooner.

But I would wait.

Patience: the very virtue of trust.

It would be my friend and enemy all at once.

I could wait.

Enduring,

All in my pitiless human strength.

It was the key to unlocking forgiveness.

None other would ever have to suffer as I.

And in suffrage I was multiple.

The physical hardships were few and far between the emotional strain

Of your hardness of heart,

Of your incessant need to rely on yourself.

I don’t need you.

I just want you.

But you leave me time and again.

And I was left alone, hanging on a tree.

Alone, no one could comfort me.

Alone, I hung on a tree.

Alone, my Father left me.

Alone, I was alone in that too.

Humiliated.

Taunted.

You lashed out at me.

I couldn’t breathe.

Thirst brought me closer.

Bitter-sweetness quenched me.

There was not much left to do.

My time had almost come.

And it was there that I experienced

Pain- excruciating:

Physical, mental, spiritual.

But it was your lack of faith I couldn’t bear.

Eyes upon Heaven, soul gravitating to Hell,

I gave in. I gave up.

I promised my spirit to the only One that could hold it.

And it was there that I breathed my last. 

Questions and answers

Does our search for answers actually prevent us from accepting life and living it? Or when we search, are we just embracing this life and digging deeper to find more?

I could wait a thousand moments

With a thousand questions.

Would they be answered by my patience,

Or left hanging in my mind?

The alternate is to seek and search,

To search and seek for a thousand moments.

Would the time be fruitful or wasted?

Would I find what I'm looking for?

Perhaps even, discarding my questions

Might be easier and less disappointing.

Would I be free to live this life,

Or feel as if something is missing?

Something like a life of mystery.

Something like a purpose to move forward.

Something like a desire to be fulfilled.

Something like a thousand questions.