The Rusted Musket

A few months back I posted a complicated something or another somewhere else (a quote I can’t seem to find at the moment), basically paraphrased it said something like this. “If your Christ life is built upon your skills, your image, your talents, your persona, your degree, anything other than Christ himself; if this is the case, then even though you may have the outward appearance of Christianity you actually have nothing in common with Christianity.” Or something to that effect.

As some of you may know, two weeks ago my left index finger slipped into a machine at work. This ridiculous machine basically bit my poor finger the only way ridiculous machines know how, with nasty rip and tear lacerations.

Later that night, as I stared at my broken finger (I could very easily have lost it), I realized how much identity I had stored in that wee index finger of mine. Mostly because I felt very much worthless with a worthless broken finger; yep, that is the honest truth. I felt worthless because I couldn’t play guitar, thus I couldn’t worship (which is a lie), I couldn’t do the dishes, and I couldn’t even do my envelope stacking job (though I still had to fulfill my work week) so I was stuck doing sub-envelope stacking duties for the rest of the week. Ah yes, very troubling stuff to identities built on personal strength, intelligence, and talent.

And then in the back of my head, the very annoying paraphrased thought from above kept rumbling like so many slow moving freight trains.

There’s something very destructive about having your identity based on things you do simply because you just don’t know when those things will be lost to you.

But my thoughts come in pairs, so along with the freight train there was a mumbling lyric, a worship song actually, just the other week I kicked it off my iPods Ultimate Worship Playlist because even though the lyric was powerful I was bored with the arrangement (that admission itself could be six hours worth of blog):

In Christ alone my hope is found

He is my light, my strength, my song

This cornerstone, this solid ground

Firm through the fiercest drought and storm

What heights of love, what depths of peace

When fears are stilled, when strivings cease

My comforter, my all in all

Here in the love of Christ I stand

In Christ alone, the lyric sings, is a good place for identity, (certainly better than index fingers). And I think it’s true, for God “loves each of us as if there was only one of us,” and has a plan for each of us even if we don’t have functioning index fingers, and sometimes in spite of functioning index fingers…

Image Credit: therealarien @ deviantart.com

As I arose from an honest slumber darling wifey asked me how it felt to be thirty two years full!? The first thing in my mind, the first words of the day;

“I have a lot to do and even less time to do it…”

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“It is vanity to wish for long life and to care little about a well-spent life.”

- Thomas a’ Kempis

Occasionally I look around, I don’t stare or anything, just gaze. Once there was this highschool girl sitting next to me talking to a friend and writing in her journal. The journal was tilted in such a way that I could see what was going on so I looked, but not in a “I’m a creeper” sort of way, it was more like an innocent “my eyeballs were already looking around and happened to land on your page” sort of way. Anyways, one word was legible, it was written larger than the rest, traced up and down, over and again

- Alone -

Granted, no word has probably been written more times in more teenage journals, mine included; but it does beg the question. In a world full of interests, activities, hobbies, friends, family, pets, video games, and carpet ball, what the hell is it (to borrow from a commonly used phrase), that makes all of us, not just the teenager, feel so alone? Ironically, the terminology of the phrase itself points toward the answer, it’s the hell in us.

We exist in a fallen state, no amount of philanthropy or facebook friends will improve the situation. We are separated from God. This is why Christians claim Jesus is a big deal, he bridged the gap between our foolishness and God’s holiness, between our house and His. He purchased our lives with His own, purifying us so that we may have audience with a completely pure God. This is what we Christians claim is in the name of Jesus.

To the girl surrounded but alone in the coffee shop; Jesus himself experienced the same crushing vacuum of loneliness. From perfection he was tainted not just with a piece of hell but all of it, so much so his own Father in Heaven had to look away.

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

There is a God who has walked more than a mile in your shoes, who conquered loneliness, hell, and death. In His company we  no longer trace the word – alone -

Image Credit: sacool at Deviantart.com