My personal god.

My personal god.

Every week, I felt guilty when I stood in the congregation. I never sang, because I was self-conscious. Some of the songs were so good. But I'd never lift up my hands. I'd never do all that. It wasn't because I thought it was nonsense. I wanted to. I secretly whispered to God, "I'm not stretching forth my hands, and I'm not singing out loud, but God you know my heart." I wanted that gift of tongues. I was just too afraid to go up. I wanted all of that. I wanted to be a part of Christianity. But I always hid it inside of me. And my silent prayers never went anywhere. Because they were silent.

Why wouldn't you answer my prayers? When I had gone up to the front after the sermon to be prayed for, you never came for me. I never felt the way others do. I did not utter in tongues, nor did I feel any inner energy. I don't know. I was just inert. You never bothered with me. I was unworthy. I was not holy enough. I wasn't truly seeking you. You know my heart.

My time in FCBC was when I started actually singing and lifting my hands. I spent time in army reading "the purpose driven life". I thought, maybe there was a reason why I was wherever I was. My problems. My needs. How long did I need to ask?

My personal god was never there for me. It had always been my sheltered life and now me alone. I'd seen friends suddenly turning to you and they seemed to find relief. I know, I felt relief too. That is something you were here for. But the relief was too brief. It was like a painkiller. Perhaps it was my fault. I need to take action.

But forgive me that I no longer believe. Because you have not answered my deepest needs. You have ignored my desires for the gifts of the spirit that I envied, that I thought would bring me one step closer to you. And most of all, you kept me waiting. You led me on, and you wasted my time. You gave me false hope, for you were never planning anything, were you? You were never drawing toward me. You wanted me to draw toward you. I was promised that if I take a step toward you, you'd be running toward me with open arms. But you ran to others, not to me. You selfish, silent, veiled god. My personal savior.

The tears I cried for myself. The tears I cried in your presence. Genuine tears, no priest in the confession box. To think I had thanked you for the food. Did you really bless them? Do you really take care of the birds and pay attention to us? You're a fake. You are the wedge in my soul. How can I face my family? What do I do now? A leech, that's what you are. In our house, stealing my family, stealing authority, love, and attention. Now you're the beloved, and I have to stay quiet. I have to play along. Because of you.

I would punch you. But you make me angrier. You don't even let me vent it out on you. Because you disappear. Behind smokes and mirrors. Behind the rocks, darting like shadows. You terrorist. You formless nothingness. What can I be mad with? But only to deflect it back to myself. You wretched thing. Guilt is your weapon of choice, and you use it so well.

Where are you? O' my personal god? I beseech you to come back to me. To tell me this is all a lie, to bring me to my senses. Cover me within your mighty hand. Hide me now under your wing. I will be still and know you are god. Would you? Fill the hole in my heart.

Cruel world that knocks Don Quixote back to reality. What crime is it to play-act, and to believe? That my once dear savior would save me?

Who would have known
that my closest friend
would in a twist so typically epic
become my greatest foe

No! Worse than that
like a tragic reality
the curse of forgetting
does not leave us exempt

unbearable, the lightness of being
the triviality of our past
you have become nothing
a memory i'd like to stamp and glorify

but cannot, instead
you are another once favorite song
that lost appeal and flavor in an unnoticed moment
a pity i can only have mixed emotions about

What crucifixion was that
that brought us redemption
has sneaked in the payment demand
of sorrows and suffering

how many have died
because of your legendary sacrifice
who has not been condescendingly or violently judged
because of your moment of glory

Which perverse dream of man was it
for now by the thousands
they fantasize of death and suffering
of an end of the times

and ho! they call it
theology of hope
hope! they say,
redemption is near!

And when you come down from the heavens
angels praising your holy name
worlds shattering and lightning flashing
there will be trembling and there will be conceited vindication

but we will say
unbelievable!
he dares to be real,
what cursed buffoonery is this

after all the trouble you've left
as the grand inquisitor so knows
we are not attempting to be a cult of the inquisitor
but you angel of death

you brewed this madness
and tossed us in like green onions
our hearts will be hardened
they will say, "as it is written"

but there is no redemption
absurdity it would have to be
to shed all that we'd got
at your slightest convenience

death will be our punishment
what protest can we possibly have
but throw our hands up in exasperation and say
madness madness it is all madness

why give me two ears
if you will not speak
and give me two eyes
when you don't let me see

why give me a prophet
then make him a fool
or give me a choice
if you're so merciful

no, you troublemaker
reveal yourself! make it clear!
don't play games with me
when i've got an impossible handicap

save me if you can
leave me if you will
but more so, save me save me!
until then, I will not wait

enough of the silent treatment
the playing of hard to get
if you will not feed me, then
at least don't hinder me from doing it myself

except you haven't
again the guilt the blame i know it fully now
what crime is it to play-act, to believe
that my dear savior would save me?