Humbly Swagger
Most people who accept the label "conservative Christian," or its synonyms, spend too much time throwing stones at the cultural citadels and too little acquiring and developing the skills and knowledge to allow them to compete in the ideological and cultural arena.
--Cal Thomas
Every time that I go into our local Best Buy store I think about the pitiful little section of music that is secluded in the corner, out of the way and intentionally placed for the ignorant consumer. Why is this? Most of the discs found here should be able to find their stylistic equivalents out there on the main floor, but would seem to rather remain segregated.
I've lived my life this way. Segregated. Safe. Irrelevant.
No longer.
I want my life, my work, my moral fiber measured against the world and those in it. I want to work harder, listen more intently, care crushingly, love longingly to make people ask why. Why is this guy so obsessed with life? How can he be so strangely unique and be so persistently passionate? What the hell is wrong with this guy?
I want all these things to show what a little Tony Chachere's can do for a good ole' ribeye. I want all of this to see how far a beam of light can cut through the darkness that's never experienced illumination.
I really long for this apparent mania to show that this shell, that I call myself, is by a large a void. To show how the Two Broken Hands can gird this decaying carcass and fill it with Providence. Maybe the only glimpse that some will get to see.
I've dallied to long within the ivory tower. It's high time to see where I measure up. I long to boast.
To boast through the cross through which I've been crucified to this world and the world crucified to me. I'm a paradox. I want to humbly swagger through life with lowly arrogance that inspires. I want such emptiness as to there could be no question as to the fullness I have in Him.
Our life's are not called to be lived in safety. Our life's are not even our own. Get the hell out there.
Who's with me?
--Cal Thomas
Every time that I go into our local Best Buy store I think about the pitiful little section of music that is secluded in the corner, out of the way and intentionally placed for the ignorant consumer. Why is this? Most of the discs found here should be able to find their stylistic equivalents out there on the main floor, but would seem to rather remain segregated.
I've lived my life this way. Segregated. Safe. Irrelevant.
No longer.
I want my life, my work, my moral fiber measured against the world and those in it. I want to work harder, listen more intently, care crushingly, love longingly to make people ask why. Why is this guy so obsessed with life? How can he be so strangely unique and be so persistently passionate? What the hell is wrong with this guy?
I want all these things to show what a little Tony Chachere's can do for a good ole' ribeye. I want all of this to see how far a beam of light can cut through the darkness that's never experienced illumination.
I really long for this apparent mania to show that this shell, that I call myself, is by a large a void. To show how the Two Broken Hands can gird this decaying carcass and fill it with Providence. Maybe the only glimpse that some will get to see.
I've dallied to long within the ivory tower. It's high time to see where I measure up. I long to boast.
To boast through the cross through which I've been crucified to this world and the world crucified to me. I'm a paradox. I want to humbly swagger through life with lowly arrogance that inspires. I want such emptiness as to there could be no question as to the fullness I have in Him.
Our life's are not called to be lived in safety. Our life's are not even our own. Get the hell out there.
Who's with me?
posted by lee at 9:06 AM
2 Comments:
me.
Let's rock with it, brother. You know I'm with you.
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