Skip to main content

It's A Mystery

I'm not saying I've got it figured out. Ha! But something Johnny Irish was trying to tell me finally makes sense. Do you ever get that two-headed monster of a feeling that no one understands you, and no one really loves you? It's deeper than that, actually: It's that existential realization that you long for a completeness that nothing here can touch. And I mean nothing. I'll be straight with you: I'd hear that quoted in a CS Lewis book, or people walk around with it plastered on their social media front doors, as it were, and I'd just roll my eyes. Because the people who share that quote--I'm convinced--have never actually experienced it. It sounds like the set-up to a "gospel presentation." And that's mostly what it is, for American evangelicals: A trite opening line that ends with telling the drug addict or the pervert or whoever that only Jesus can satisfy. Prepare yourself.

But that's not even remotely true. Jesus doesn't take that away. He never said He would. Following Jesus only gets you ready to see the truth: there are two paths. One is the path of Pleasure, and the other one is Pain. Jesus says, "Follow me," and essentially he's saying it'll pay off eventually. You tell Him about the Hole, and He says, "I know."

Pleasure is always there, and it's time for someone to say it: Pleasure is better, and easier. Or at least it starts off that way. But you're trying to fill the Hole, and, like I said, nothing here fills it. We're all addicts and junkies to fill it, and the only thing I can picture to describe this is that Jesus stays on the other path and has a good cry while we get tricked again. He hopes we aren't too deep into it not to even notice that he's still standing there.

As you go, Jesus shares the Pain with you, which is nothing, if not inspiring. You take note of the fact that Jesus never leaves, and he never takes it personally, all the times you go the wrong way. At least not enough to leave. You start to give the Pain like gifts to each other, because that's the only thing to do, really.

He had said he loves us, and would never lead us astray, and you start to believe him, because, well, he's been here before. The Pain and the Pleasure get stronger as you go. You realize that Jesus is not just a guy who's been down the path; He's--in a way that doesn't quite make sense--the way you're going.

This is the truth. No one will buy what you're selling--and no one should--if you promise them happiness and no pain here. And if you act like the drugs or the sex or the food or the fame isn't attractive to you, they'll laugh right in your face, and go on their way. We all carry The Hole around inside of us, and there's very little point in pretending otherwise.

If you like pop music at all, you may know of all those stories of famous musicians who died of drugs and other things. There is one thing I've always appreciated about them: they told the truth about what they wanted and needed; they didn't bother fooling themselves or others; they know that there is something very wrong here; we aspire to things we cannot realize here. They have every right to mock some of us for trying to pretend that we're OK, and that the good life we can build here is enough.

Do I trust Jesus enough to lead others with Him and to Him? Or do I use others, because I'm still thinking about my own wants and needs?


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Dear Alyse

 Today, you’re 35. Or at least you would be, in this place. You probably know this, but we’re OK. Not great, but OK. We know you wouldn’t want us moping around and weeping all the time. We try not to. Actually, I guess part of the problem is that you didn’t know how much we loved you. And that you didn’t know how to love yourself. I hope you have gotten to Love by now. Not a place, but fills everything in every way. I’m not Him, but he probably said, “Dear daughter/sister, you have been terribly hard on yourself. Rest now, and be at peace.” Anyway, teaching is going well, and I tell the kids all about you. They all say you are pretty. I usually can keep the boys from saying something gross for a few seconds. Mom and I are going to the game tonight. And like 6 more times, before I go back to South Carolina. I have seen Nicky twice, but I myself haven’t seen your younger kids. Bob took pictures of the day we said goodbye, and we did a family picture at the Abbey. I literally almost a...

My Thoughts On The Harrison Butker Commencement Speech

Update: I read the whole thing. I’m sorry, but what a weirdo. I thought you [Tom Darrow, of Denver, CO] made a trenchant case for why lockdowns are bad, and I definitely appreciated it. But a graduation speech is *not* the place for that. Secondly, this is an august event. It always is. I would never address the President of the United States in this manner. Never. Even the previous president, though he deserves it, if anyone does. Thirdly, the affirmations of Catholic identity should be more general. He has no authority to propound with specificity on all matters of great consequence. It has all the hallmarks of a culture war broadside, and again, a layman shouldn’t speak like this. The respect and reverence due the clergy is *always due,* even if they are weak, and outright wrong. We just don’t brush them aside like corrupt Mafia dons, to make a point. Fourthly, I don’t know where anyone gets the idea that the TLM is how God demands to be worshipped. The Church doesn’t teach that. ...

A Friend I Once Had, And The Dogmatic Principle

 I once had a friend, a dear friend, who helped me with personal care needs in college. Reformed Presbyterian to the core. When I was a Reformed Presbyterian, I visited their church many times. We were close. I still consider his siblings my friends. (And siblings in the Lord.) Nevertheless, when I began to consider the claims of the Catholic Church to be the Church Christ founded, he took me out to breakfast. He implied--but never quite stated--that we would not be brothers, if I sought full communion with the Catholic Church. That came true; a couple years later, I called him on his birthday, as I'd done every year for close to ten of them. He didn't recognize my number, and it was the most strained, awkward phone call I have ever had. We haven't spoken since. We were close enough that I attended the rehearsal dinner for his wedding. His wife's uncle is a Catholic priest. I remember reading a blog post of theirs, that early in their relationship, she told him of the p...