Bugging God

Posted: January 12, 2011 in spiritual
Tags: , , , ,

>I was a little hesitant about posting this. I don’t want to sound preachy, for starters. Secondly, it was a real experience, and it was a personal one, a “Naked Lunch” type situation.

What? You never read “Naked Lunch”? (drama)*sound of garment being rent* I have no son.(/drama)
Well, then. A bit of exposition. A naked lunch is when time freezes and everyone can see just what is on the end of everyone’s fork.
But I digress.
I was reluctant to post this, but then some things came to me:

So far, only one person has read this blog;
What’s the point of having a blog if you don’t post things on it;
I really, really gotta start letting other people see the stuff I write, if I ever want it to get better;
It’s kinda awesome to see your words appear on the screen, all professional and whatnot. Somehow, it makes what you write seem more authentic, more actual.

So, I will post this. Read it, comment on it, do your worst. Its title comes from a song by Joe Jackson. No, not that one. The other one.

Take This Knife

I just had the strangest experience.
I am still having it.
This stroke has been doing a number on me. I have shivered, I have fallen, I have twitched, I have stammered. It’s amazing what a little lack of oxygen will do to you. About three hours ago, I was so dizzy I could barely tell up from down. Ever been on the spinning teacups at Kings Island, or anyplace else they might have that “ride” (that’s more like some medieval torture device)? I was feeling like I’d been on that for hours. I staggered to my bed and passed out in the cold cold dark.
God, I asked, what the f**k?
Sometimes our prayers are inelegant.
They are more real, though.
No flowery prose, not “thee”s and “thou”s and Yoda speak, with verbs, nouns and $20 adjectives, flying about all willy nilly in some Churchical Rococo fashion.
Just, what the f**k, God? I need some help, dang-it! What’s the deal with all this?
Your heart is hard.
Yes, Lord, I know that. That’s why they put me on that Zocor or whatever-
No. Like Pharaoh. Hard like that.
Hard like a diamond. Hard like a rusty, steel I beam. Hard like a five-year-old’s head. Hard like that.
So you’re saying that this is all happening to me because…?
I’m not saying the stroke happened to you for any particular reason. I’m saying, you asked for my help, and I’m helping you out. Your heart is hard. Hardened, to put it more accurately.
(You can imagine I’m having a time with all this.)
Well, if my heart is hard like Pharaoh, what do I gotta do to not get smote, or smited, or ensmittened, or-
You won’t forgive somebody. You’ve been holding this grudge for, well, a really long time, and it’s getting kinda old. You need to forgive him.
(So, I’m thinking, Dad? nah, he’s cool. Robert? nope, we worked all that childhood crap out years ago. Victor? Well, I’m not gonna buy the dude flowers or anything, but I’m over all that.)
God, I can’t think of anybody. Are you sure about this? I mean, I know you’re God and all, but, uh, could you like, double check-
Who do you always say “I hate you” to?
Who is it that you can’t stand to look at, when you get up every morning?
When you fall behind on grading the kids, or find yourself slipping up in handling your money, or when you make, like, even the tiniest little faux pas, who is that one person YOU. JUST. WON’T. CUT A BREAK.

You can take your time answering that.
Uh, the devil?
Ha. Cute. You know who I mean. Forgive him. I forgave him, a long time ago. He’s only human, you see.
God. Seriously. I’ve done a whole lotta dirt in my life.
I’ve hurt a buncha people. They didn’t deserve it.
You’re right again. Forgive yourself anyway.
God, seriously, you just don’t know. It’s, it’s just that-
You asked them to forgive you. Somehow, they found it in their hearts to look past the hurt, somehow they found a way. You asked me. ME. Have you taken a glance at the kind of stuff I’m capable of? Planets, moons, stars, all that Elroy Jeston stuff. Molecules. Sub-atomic particles. Vibrating strings and branes that make up all of existence, all eleven dimensions of it, springing into being just coz I told it to. Honey badgers. Guess what? I forgive you. It’s your turn.
God, I don’t think I can.
Why not? Have you done something I haven’t seen or heard of before? Nope. You haven’t. And I’ve seen a lot of stuff. A lot.
I just… I know I can do better. I should be doing better. I’m a huge disappointment.
Wow. That’s pretty big talk coming from somebody that can’t even make a slime mold. Look, you’re not the only one in the world who thinks this. You all think; well, I’m so smart, and I shoulda seen that coming, or; I’ve been hurt by someone else in the past, how could I possibly have even thought to do that to another person, or; I was raised up a good Muslim/Jew/Catholic/Rastafarian or whatever. How could I have done something so awful? You can’t seem to understand that you’re a human being. You walk funny, spit when you talk, stub your toe and fart just like everybody else. Do you expect your kids at school to play “Giant Steps” on the xylophone, eight o’clock first day of school? Nope. You know they’re just learning. They’re growing. They’re gonna make mistakes. They’re gonna fall.
You fell. You asked me to forgive you. I picked you up, and I forgave you. I’ll do it again next Tuesday. You can do this. Just say it.

Chris, I forgive you. Say that.

Chris, I… I forgive you.

Do you mean it?
Uh… yeah. Yeah, I do.
Good. That’s a start.

So there.

words and pictures © Christopher Ward. All rights reserved.

  1. robin says:

    >Am I the 1 person? lol It won't be for long. Deep writing and I like it. Seeing it as a purge entry. I want to share with you a proverb I read lately and it is now one of my favorites.Tension is who you think you should be. Relaxation is who you are.I've been relaxing more lately 🙂 Everyone should try it.

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