Graphic reads: my father marries my wife’s daughter. My father is now my son in law. My step daughter is now my mother. My wife is now my mother’s mother which makes her my grandma too. If my wife is my grandma, then I’m her grandchild.
I was screaming out your name. I guess you never heard me, but I was screaming it for years, and I think I deserve a reason for why you’ve been so elusive. Now I’ve been thinking about my life and I can’t believe that I have wasted so much time trying to be what everyone loves, the prodigal son returning. Oh, what a sight, the prodigal son returning.–Quiet Company, “The Easy Confidence“
Listen to the entire song by going to the link above. You can listen to the whole album or buy it. Quiet Company can also be found on Spotify.
The song “The Easy Confidence” is on my workout playlist. You’d be surprised how motivating it is when your pushing through your second or third mile and Taylor Muse is sing-screaming:
Oh, my soul is tired, but I’ve got an itch to scratch, I’ve got a stone to throw, and I want to sink my teeth into your hollow bones. I’ve got a bone to pick, and I want to pick it clean! Oh, the prodigal son and his shameful disbelief.
And then when you get to the end of the song, and there’s a fanfare of wishful thinking, it makes that difficult part of the workout better. It goes:
I want something better. I want something real. And this is the part where my exit starts, because I caught a glimpse of the father’s heart. Do we want something we can’t have? So come on, friends, count up your sins: one for being human, two for being born like this. This isn’t love. We’re not in love. If you wanted love, you just should’ve spoken up.
I identify with the plight in this song, that there’s wishful thinking by one’s friends and family to leave the fad of disbelief and come back to the “good side” of belief.
There’s a tacit, constant pressure to reconcile belief. And even when my parents or friends aren’t saying something directly, they seem to be saying something indirectly. And it may be that it’s all in my head. But it’s there, nonetheless.
I’m guilty of over analyzing most everything, and I get obsessive over religious questions and ideas.
I know, I know. You’re all like, “No way!”
And I’m like, “Yeah.”
And you’re like, “Doooood.”
If you haven’t checked out this album from Quiet Company, yet, consider this Sunday to be your excuse to finally check it out. I mean, if you lift a finger on the sabbath, you could find yourself dead. Numbers 15: 32 to 36 reads (emphasis mine):
32 While the Israelites were in the wilderness, a man was found gathering wood on the Sabbath day. 33 Those who found him gathering wood brought him to Moses and Aaron and the whole assembly, 34 and they kept him in custody, because it was not clear what should be done to him. 35 Then the LORD said to Moses, “The man must die. The whole assembly must stone him outside the camp.” 36 So the assembly took him outside the camp and stoned him to death, as the LORD commanded Moses.
And don’t forget, Jesus is God, and Jesus/God “is the same yesterday and today and forever.”
Reblogged from Nakedpastor David Hayward:
One of the most difficult things to do is to consider that our spiritual experiences may be the products of our own minds.
It is painful to admit that our religion and our spirituality may all be generated by our fears and fantasies.
To contemplate that That-Which-We-Call-God is beyond our comprehension paralyzes the religious impulses of our minds and actually may deliver us closer to that which is True.
There may be more to the statement that God sucks at communication. I don’t think this requires anymore commentary.
Consider this your Sunday morning sermon.
Have you ever heard David Barton’s rendition of, “If I only had a brain”?
It’s not great all the way through, but he hits the right notes when he sings that one line every time.
Not only do fetuses spontaneously abort in all species, but there’s an incredible amount of animals that practice homosexual behavior in nature.
Suck on that penis, I mean, lollipop, Davy Bee.