Patmos Isle

The life of a Pastor, one who has been beaten and left to die by his own kind.

Location: Texas, United States

I consider myself as one that has seen the dark side of humanity and has lived to speak of it.

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

Why am I hurting

I am not sure why tonight I am experiencing such pain. It has been over a year sense my heart, mind and spirit were raped. I don't understand it... Why tonight? Why do I want to get in the corner and cover myself with a blanket and weep?

A year, over a year has gone by, and yes I have had my sorrows, but nothing like this. None have been so painful, none have been so dark, none have seemed so hopeless.

Tonight I can see their torches, as they entered my garden. Torches that were burning by the vile from their hearts. Torches that were not used to find, but used to burn. I was told... Patmos, pull your sword, defend yourself, fight for us!!! Yet I sat in the silence, as he approached and kissed me, the kiss of one in whom I was given the chance to kiss a thousand times, yet not even in the name of Christ, would I kiss him. I said, let us have mercy, let us again pour out the wine, let us again, pour the oil upon his heart. I mended him for this??? I mended him for that kiss? I thought I mended him, so that he might run, so that his wings would take him above the others.

I remember that night, they who loved me were a few feet from me. I remember that night, I cried in my pillow. I remember that night, I wept, I beat my fist into the air. I said from these ashes will I re-build, not that I might return, but that I might harbor them who are weeping, harbor them who are crying, harbor them who are dying.

Why tonight? Why am I hurting? Why tonight? Why do I feel like running? Why do I feel like leaving? Why do I feel like weeping?

It has been so long ago, it has been oh so long ago.

Then why do I feel the knife? Why do I feel their cut? Why do I feel the twist of that blade?

I remember that night. They did not kill in mercy, they killed in rage. They who were but a few feet from me, they said, that they would tarry, they said that they would fight. Yet when stones were cast, they could not last, they could not understand my response. I knelt in the sand and picked up their rocks, and there I begin to build, to build that bridge that would let others cross, to build that bridge so others could run. I now lift up my voice and I cry...... All you who are thirsty, All you who are weary, All you who are tired.... I have built you a bridge. I have built you a place. Come, come in and declare thy sanctuary.

Yet now I feel like the one who stands at it's door, not knowing the password, not knowing how to enter. I built this refuge for all who were weary, where did I put it's door?

Oh yes, I now remember, the door is at it's floor, I remember now, I made it for them who could not stand nor reach it's door. Lower I must go, lower I must go!! I had forgotten... Lower I must go!!


Blogger Thomas Jackson said...

I don't understand all of your post, but I believe I understand enough. I built a safe place for my tormentors to believe, and be free from not only retribution from me, but guilt from themselves. Unfortunately, that guilt is easily assuaged; our pain has no such solution. The people who've wronged us and tormented us will be far happier than we will ever be: if we don't build the safe place, they will find one otherwise. To counter the pain for ourselves, a role in their vindication helps on a minor level. In the end, we'll both suffer more. By our kindness and forgiving natures, they will get ahead of us in not only worldly things; they will be closer to their spiritual goals because they carry the lesser pain. It is terribly unjust, but that is the way of the tormentors. They will get ahead. They will have love, safety, understanding, and angrily enough, the moral high ground. They will look down on us and wonder why we're mired in our pain. Some will laugh. It's easier on all levels to be the tormentor, the one who causes pain.

We're taught that forgiving those who wrong us is the best thing we can do as people and believers. That teaching is itself wrong. The easiest and most direct route to the top of the world and the top of the church, at least in my experience, is to be the tormenter of a good person, then use that good person's forgiving nature to rise above guilt. That way you never have to deal with our brand of pain: watching those who hurt us be happy with their perfect lives, perfect spouses, perfect children, and perfect futures on the backs of our forgiveness.

That is the way of the world and the church. We'll never feel complete. The next time you help your tormentors, know that they will feel better, and live better far before you will. The only thing we can do about our pain is to pray and hope that when the Lord sees fit to remove us from our pain-filled bodies in his pain-ridden world, that he does not judge us harshly for our misery. He demands we forgive, so we forgive. He allows infinite chances for the tormentors to forgive themselves, but offers few options to comfort our pain. The worst part of the whole situation is that without forgiveness for our tormentors, we'll never feel better at all.

8:41 PM  
Anonymous Jon Daley said...

Dear Patmos,
I have continued reading your blog, added it to my regular reading list. I do not wish to be a tormentor, and I pray that I will not be. I do not know if I can ever understand your pain, I suppose in some ways, I pray that I will not, but in other ways, my heart, my inmost parts, yearn with compassion and empathy.
I know that you probably see me as naive, what do I know, what pain have I experienced, how can I possibly understand you. And I don't claim otherwise, other than that I know a God who is above all. I like your ending of this post, provided I understand what you are saying.
Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and he shall lift you up. -- James 4:10

7:04 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home