Church, the miserable experience, goes like this: Sitting on the chair, singing the songs we always sing. Listening to sermons written the way they are always written. Praying the way we’ve always prayed.
Sigh.
I cannot escape the wave that crashes over and pulls me under. Drowning in the apathy and lethargy of the service, I leave asking myself where the good days when I connected with hope went. I sigh because of the spiritual journey that I’ve taken outside the Sunday service.
No one understands the bittersweet taste, love and anguish, of the Vineyard affair. The cost. The field that was bought. How dull can a person(s) be? If a man sells everything to gain a dream, would it not make you curious? If a man can no longer fight on the frontlines of his dream, will you not wonder why? But I live in a bubble, that’s why.
A bubble.
Aye. This bubble I live in is comprised of strangers. Strangers who live in a bubble that perpetuates superficiality hiding the rot inside each one. The bubble floats in the air. Knowing not where it is headed. Just knowing it is floating. But the mesmerism of floating felt by the strangers in the bubble can only last a season. Then it evolves into idontcarism.
That’s why the strangers in the bubble don’t know and don’t want to know. So my unique journey remains hidden in the apartment I lived for two years. It stays in the thoughts of the people I still care for, but can no longer be with. It remains echoed in the songs we sang in the aroma of God’s presence.
But maybe it is not the season for dreamers and their dreams. Bubbles can’t contain wine.
So I sit in my dysfunctionality with no more dreams. But deep within, I know this will pass. Because I have prayed that my Deliverer come. I have made a request to I Am to pop my bubble and rescue me. He will ride on the wind and clouds and scatter His lightning and clap thunderously. With an arm of steel He will pull me out of the depths and shout out my name with strength like a lover drunk with love for his beloved.
Joel! Joel! My son! My friend! I have heard your prayers and seen your mourning. See, I have released you from your binds; washed your whoredom away and made you my pure bride. Once more will I remind you of my promises to you and show you the strength of my power. For before you were born, I have dictated that you stand as a voice to the nations, and have promised you fatherhood and seed too numerous to count. Dream dreams. See visions. Sing songs. From ashes you will dance with no shame.
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