Emo Lvl. 3/4 - Tomb Crisis

Gaming trivia, nevermind that. It's a good title for this post though. Tombs are generally reserved for the dead - that is the rule, but there are exceptions (the case of Jesus should immediately jump to mind). Crises are mostly uncomfortable situations that denote a certain sense of urgency.
A lot's been going through my mind lately, and I'm finding myself lacking. Lacking in motivation, lacking in emotion, lacking in wisdom, lacking in enthusiasm, lacking in purpose, and ultimately lacking in faith. I can't say it's not my fault, because it is. But only partially, I think.
A constant, satanic knocking on my mind's door has worn me down. The words of the book of Isaiah are pleading my case.

You were wearied by all your ways...

Sadly enough, my life at this point seems to only reflect the first half of the verse, and not so much the second, which is:

...but you would not say, "It is hopeless." You found renewal of your strength, and so you did not faint.
- Isaiah 57:10

It's not so much as me not needing a "renewal of strength". I do, because I'm only human. It's more like I don't want one. I don't, because I'm human. In this world, there's a certain stench in the air. It's a smell approximating a delicate mix between the aroma of a fresh and flavourful festoon of flowers and that of festering, feculent flesh.
Something about mortality just doesn't sit well with me. I've always been one to find flaws and pick at them. If you know me, I'm usually pretty honest about what I hate about you. I usually don't mention what I like, but if there's something about you that I just can't stand, you'll know. Now I'm getting a taste of my own medicine.
I hate myself but manage to love myself just the same. Within an interview on Bright Eyes' album, Fevers and Mirrors, Conor Oberst - frontman and lead vocalist of the band - has some very remarkable things to say.

[transcript of interview, C - Conor, R - radio host]
R: Well, we are glad you made it! Now, your new album, Fevers and Mirrors... Tell us a little about the title. I know there's a good deal of repeated imagery in the lyrics: fevers, mirrors, scales, clocks.... Could you discuss some of this?
C: Sure. Let's see, the fever is.. what -!
R: First - first let me say that, this is a brilliant record, man. We're all really into it here at the station. We get lots of calls. It's really good stuff.
C: Thanks... Thanks a lot.
R: So talk about some of the symbolisms.
C: The fever?
R: Sure.
C: Well, the fever is basically whatever ails you, or presses you.... It could be anything; in my case it’s my neurosis, my...
[pause]
C: ...depression. But I don’t want it to be limited to that. It's certainly different for different people. So, whatever keeps you up at night.
R: I see.
[pause]
C: And the - and the mirror's like, as you might have guessed, self-examination, or reflection, or whatever form.... This could be vanity, or self-loathing. I - I know I’m - I’m guilty of both...
R: That’s interesting... How about the scale?
C: The scale is essentially our attempt to solve our problems quantitatively, through logic or rationalization. In my opinion it’s often fruitless, but...
[pause]
C: ...always...
[pause]
C: ...not - not always...
[pause]
C: And the clocks and calenders it's uh - it's just... time... our little measurements. It's like... it's always chasing after us.
R: It is. It is.

What's my fever? Pride? Anger? Hatred? Impatience? Selfishness? Self-pity? Passive aggression? Agressive passion? Somnolence? Banality? Apathy? I'm sure there's got to be something (if not everything in there and more) that's applicable. If anything, it's likely to be a mix of revelation and deviation.
Perhaps I'm losing my faith. Maybe not in God, but in His creation. You know, in this and that. In him and her. In you and me. I'm sure at least one person knows what I mean. It's definitely one thing to know somethings (and believe me, I do know some things) and something completely removed from that to live and experience it. I'm sure you'll understand that it is one thing for someone to tell you that he or she loves you and something entirely different to be married to that very same person for, say, fifty years. Talk is cheap I guess (I'm one to talk).
I find an awkward paradox working itself out in my day-to-day life. On one hand, I think I would need fellowship and interaction with others. On the other hand, I've found myself seeking more and more solitude. On the first hand I've got the natural human need to belong somewhere, yet I find the more I learn and think about it all, the clearer these two facts become.

1. This imperfect world is filled with imperfect people (the club of which I should promptly and would gladly head up).
   
2. I don't really need or want to be around anyway.
   

I've always wondered about death. Not so much as to what would follow for the deceased as much as to what would follow for those left in the mortal world. In the end, I guess that the way the death is dealt with by the living really depends on the dead. What and who he was will determine whether he is mourn-worthy or not. Ever think about who you'd... invite to your funeral?
Speaking about death, that reminds me of tombs, and thus my title. If you'll be as uncharacteristically kind to click there, you'll find a nice surprise in store. I've uploaded Pilate's "Barely Listening" from Sell Control for Life's Speed. Beautiful album, really.

[direct transcript from album booklet]
lying awake on this phone call. she's dreaming of better days. flowers lie on the counter. reminds her of better days. she sends a prayer up to Jesus and asks Him for His strength. the night will go on bleeding. was it [really] faith that paid the rent? i know you're barely listening. standing here in the doorway with a candle and a gun. light tears through open windows, for now the day has won. i know you're barely listening. like a child on her way here, will you smile and run the other way? faith won't find you a reason. it just smiles and runs the other way. i know you're barely listening. you can't shape love with a hammer. you can't shape life with a will. what horror lies in knowing there's no fate that chaos can't kill.
- Pilate, Barely Listening

This album has a few songs that talk about faith, such as "A Kind of Hope" and the above, "Barely Listening". Todd Clark knows how to write for emo children, as both Pilate albums have been heavily emo. The first (Caught By The Window, 2003) was girl-brand emo (which I did find much use for back then). This one, I believe, is a different kind of emo. I'm not too sure what brand, but it's a good one. Likely to be a mix of faithless-emo and lovelorn-emo. I also have use for this emo, I think.
Speaking of not being sure, I'm not too sure as to what sparked such thinking. It probably isn't of much importance anyway. I'm never really decided on anything anymore, as an old and very dear friend pointed out the other day. I must give her credit for being such a joy to talk with. Very well placed words. And it's true, I really don't know what I want, and it's not surprising. I don't know a lot of things, like what I'm trying to get at or what I'm trying to get across. So now, for lack of determined destination or predetermined purpose at hand, I'll ramble on about some things that have been running through my life and mind lately.
I find it ironic that Paul would say that life is death and death in Christ is to live, given the way we Christians "live". We live as if we're dead, even though we've claimed to have died with Christ already. What is it really, to live and love in Christ? Is it that feeling of guilt I get when I know deep down that I really don't care about so-and-so's life story? Is it that tingling sensation that gnaws away at the pit of my stomach when I realize I've taken up another nail and rammed it deep into Christ's heart? Is it that unmistakable feeling of irony when one that you love adds insult to your injury? Is it to realize that I'm a sinner (and the worst of them at that) and then stand at a loss for what to do next? Is it to look up and see the sun through the top of this hell-hole and then continue digging? Certainly not.
To live and love in Christ is what, to "seek Him"? Better yet, it's to "tell Him to show His face". What pride! What arrogance! To think that we could comprehend such immeasurable beauty! It's laughable, that we Christians would coin such ridiculous phrases to describe such laughable notions. Who is God, that you may look upon Him? This world has surely fallen, and far. He may be our Father in Heaven, but never forget that He is the almighty God of the universe and beyond. We are but specks of dust. Just single grains of sand on an infinite beach. God doesn't need you or I. God needs no one, yet loves every one. How can we possibly dare to have fellowship with such a Being, then?!

God made Him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God.
- 2 Corinthians 5:21

So basically, we humans are off the hook. Of course, at such a great cost that it would be silly of me to try and come up with an analogy for it. Abraham loved his one and only begotten son. How much more would an infinite God love His only begotten Son. God spared Abraham his son's death, but did not spare His own Son. That's love for you.
Apart from wondering what others think of myself (something I don't do too often, but I'm sure everyone does it from time to time), I wonder what God Almighty thinks about me. It's looking bleak at the moment. It's one thing to have an accident and a resulting foul-up. It's another to be an accident and live as a foul-up. Really, it all fits quite well within a different context.
This one thing about me I've been wrestling with for the longest time, and I think a winner is finally shaping up, but it's not me. It's not like it's something I can just openly talk about, as I'm sure it would make others quite uncomfortable and permanently taint what some others have been trying to build all these years. I can predict what kind of "advice" or "comforting words" I'd get in return anyway, so there really is no point. From that one assumption, though, I can draw reasonable explanations for nearly all things in and of my life. All but one, which is the question of "How can God love me if I am what I am?" Naturally, you can deal with this quite easily if you just admit that He doesn't. But then again, Christ did come, die, and rise to be my Savior, so He obviously does.
So why, then? Is it something I did? Is it something I earned? Was it something I said? Was it something I thought? Dreamed up? Actually, I'm quite sure there's no reason. There is absolutely no conceivable reason to love. Love needs no reason, I believe. Just as God is independant of all else, love is equally independant of rationality. Thank God for that.
What's next on my list? Oh yes, anger and even hatred. For awhile now, I've been nursing a healthy hate-child. She wails and screams, but deserves love all the same. It's one thing to be angry with someone you hate. It's another to be angry with someone you love, yet that's exactly what I am right now. I don't know what you would say such a thing, and at such a time. I'll give you some slack since you really have no idea. All the same, it was an unnecessary comment and not only was it unhelpful, it was quite detrimental to my condition. Here's a tip for all you aspiring-to-be-nice-people out there, sometimes STFU is a lot more Christ-like than useless comments.
It was quite a sad display, I must say. Who am I to talk though? Surely, I have no say in how others act. Just take a look at my own behaviour. I'm arrogant and snobbish, vain and critical, foolish and hypocritical. I know it. Don't tell me. Dear God, please don't tell me. Dear God, please don't show me anymore. It's not like I like being me. I really don't.
Moving on though, I really don't know what to make of my "faith" anymore. It's not like I don't know the facts. Hell, I know enough facts to write an essay without need for any outside sources or references. So how come I feel like this? How come I feel like it doesn't really matter? A friend asked me the other day, "Do you ever stop and forget about all the facts, all the history, all the proofs, and just stop and wonder whether something or someone is actually out there?" I said, "No, I don't." And why is that? It's because I've got all these bloody facts in the way. Where's the faith? Where's the blind dependence? Where's the trust?
It's like knowing everything there is to know about a celebrity, and never having met them. Stalkers develop a certain mental fixation on their targets the more they learn about them, so much so that they start believing that they actually know the celebrity and that they have a genuine relationship with them. I'm wondering whether the same goes for me and Jesus. Do I know Jesus or do I just know about Jesus. There is a subtle difference in there that I'm sure you'd agree would mean a world of difference. Am I a Christ-Follower or a Christ follower? You'll see that one can be identified as being connected to Christ, and the other as not.
I'm running out of steam. I'm also running out of things to say, so I'll leave you with this question: How much of your God is you?