burning bridges, finding grace
“Roll away your stone, I’ll roll away mine. Together we can see what we will find. Don’t leave me alone at this time, for I’m afraid of what I will discover inside.”
It’s satisfying and reassuring to hear other people voice our own desires. The wishes that we hide because they seem needy or embarrassing. It seems weak to place them on display, like a trophy or a badge of being incomplete. When one person screams what everyone else ignores, that person gives the world permission to do the same. You don’t have to be religious or introspective to acknowledge the human condition. You just have to be human, and willing to admit your flaws. Unfortunately, those two things don’t seem easily compatible anymore.
“‘Cause you told me I would find a hole within the fragile substance of my soul. And I have filled this void with things unreal, and all the while my character it steals.”
We’re preoccupied with the worldly and the finite. We try to create the perfect connection that would fulfill our hearts. Before the fall of man, Adam and Eve were one with God. There was no disconnect, there was no sin, there was no battle. They were naked and unashamed, they were free to love and be loved. Yet when sin was first introduced to the world, things changed. Suddenly, temptation greeted us with a sly smile and irresistible pressure. We unsuccessfully attempt to recreate that previous relationship – the fullness, having no shame, no doubts, no voids.
“Darkness is a harsh term, don’t you think? And yet it dominates the things I see.”
The easy path of darkness tries to draw us near, lying with a guarantee of instant gratification and fulfillment. Darkness can’t serve as a building block, it only tears you apart like a wrecking ball.
“It seems that all my bridges have been burnt… But you say that’s exactly how this grace thing works. It’s not the long walk home that will change this heart, but the welcome I receive with the restart.”
The first line about grace makes me smile every time. The rest of it reminds me of the prodigal son. He screwed over his father, he left, he came back, and his father threw him a party.
I burn down all these bridges of communication. I turn my back and run, I do things my way, I ignore the ropes that are thrown to me because I’m too ashamed to grasp hold. It’s not when my brain decides, “I need to return to God,” that my heart changes. My heart changes when I trudge back home with a heavy head and I’m greeted with open arms, the welcome at the restart. When I hear, “Welcome home, I love you, I missed you. It’s okay.”
The funny thing is, the artist of this song is not a Christian. He doesn’t follow or believe in religion or Jesus or God or faith. Yet, his lyrics show his heart’s desperate need and yearning for God..even though he doesn’t realize it.
New favorite song: Dear God 2.0 – The Roots
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