Monday, June 27, 2011
pouring into my soul the sins of my father
I grew up in a Christian house hold. Daily my mother and my father ensured that I knew that not only I was loved by them but also by God. It was something that I assumed was simply a fact due to my youth and ignorance of the importance of a relationship with God. But as I got older and I began to mature. I also began to see things that started my spiritual maturity's demise. I was an individual. I was an only child. And I had no long time friends, my parent's military career being the reason why. All of these things together made it extremely impossible for the "words" of my peers to simply Roll. Off. My. Back. At an early age I started to notice that even though for my parents career I wasn't any different than the people that I was around, I stood out. Blaring bad beats of belittled brainy babies, I became small within myself. Under the pressures of my peers unhelpful lies, the truth that my mother whispered into my ear became smaller and the voice that gave it so much meaning laid dead on the sick and soiled floor of my mind. Rigor Mortis freezing the dynamics of spirit. How were the spiritual concepts that my mother tried to push into my realization going to take root again, when the gardener of my existence continued to pour burning acid onto my once fertile land? The inevitable happened. Sin took hold. Sin, under the influence of my society sunk its sharp and serrated teeth into my skin. And once I thought my enemy was done, the venom that had taken so many lives, began to pour into my blood stream. Altering my perceptions and ideas of right wrong, acceptable and unacceptable. As my spiritual nervous system began to shut down, who God was to me, also began to fade. Like an apple that fell from a tree on the top of a hill, I began to fall. Quickly. Down. The Hill...uncontrolled. What to do? Do you allow the unbroken horse to unrelentingly embark on a uncontrolled fit of sorts until its unending adrenalin, runs dry? Or do you attempt to stop it, potentially injuring it, making it un-useful? God, in his infinite and perfect splendor knew what he was doing. Every stone laid. Every step taken. Every lesson learned. But if that was the case, then why was the run away train...still running away? God was working on not only me, but his kingdom and the position I would- One. Day. Take.