Passion & Pain


Comes & goes.
Remains {even when weakened} in tiny doses.
Even if only remaining as a faint memory.

Nothing can make it disappear.
Not loneliness or failure or defeat.
It does fade so, sometimes.
Like life slowly leaving your body…
The life that is your passion sometimes slips away.

For me, America does this.
And lies. And selfishness.
{Both my own & yours.}
America does this with her indifference & apathy,
With her sales that excuse indecency.
With money that allows murder.

But, Truth…
Truth brings passion to life even more.
Brings her from the darkness back into light.

When I get passionate, I can’t help but talk about how it brings me to life.
How Truth fills my heart with passion that calls me to action.
So, when I’m not supposed to, when you might be offended,
When the Truth that is His starts to cause discomfort & I’m taught not to share,
It fades.

Fades & fades until I wake up pinching myself to make sure the life I’m living is real.
Just needing to make sure I can still feel pain.
If I can’t feel pain, I must be dead.
If I don’t have passion, I feel dead.

Passion & Pain are real.

The absence of either causes a numbness that requires the return of one, or the other,
In order to know that one is still truly living.

So when passion is quieted by the bottom line, or hushed in the wake of expected normalcy,
She starts to fade like a memory you try so desperately to hold onto.
She turns and moves slowly in the other direction,
You beg to see her face, to see her turn & look your way.
You beg for just a moment more to have the joy {that comes with being lit up inside} fill you once again.
Just glance in my direction so I can feel alive once more?
But she’s gone.

Gone forever?
Lost completely?

It’s that moment in a film where everything’s dark
& the only sound we hear is the steady, lifeless sound of the heart monitor.
No rising or falling, just flat.
No feeling or breathing, just gone.

After awhile, there’s nothing left & a pinch won’t wake you from this numbness.

Then, through blinking eyes, we’re blinded by the hospital lights;
And there’s life.
Beeping that signifies the return of breath to the lungs & blood to the heart.

We can see her face.
It’s passion, she’s coming our way again.
Maybe not as bright as before.
But, real.
She is so real.
And beautiful.
And you can’t help but speak of her because,
After all, she’s given you breath again.

Hear me:
I do not mean to idolize passion in a way that says,
“Passion is what gives us life.”
But rather, a way in which Jesus
Brings our hearts to life, brings our lives to their purpose,
Brings us closer to Him, sets us free from the burdens that would be
Too much if it weren’t for His freedom & Truth.

So let your heart feel the pain of this world,
Let yourself understand that you can make a change.
Let your mind grasp that you are responsible.
Let your passion lead you to where you are able to
Press your palms against the wounds of a broken & hurting world.

Lyrics for my soul

{After I wrote the title of this post, I have to admit I thought of the cheesy 90’s book series: “Chicken Soup for the Soul.” Hopefully this post will not be that.}

My sweet husband has been learning new songs on the guitar from a list we’ve both been making

{okay, at least I’ve been making, per his request }¬†of songs we’d like to sing to Baby Roquemore.

Tonight, he decided it was time to learn “How He Loves.”

I have to say, this is one of my all time favourite songs.
It always makes me sing as loud as I can. It almost always brings tears to my eyes.

The lyrics always help heal a part of my soul that’s been breaking.
I think it’s because it’s the thing that’s missing that I’m supposed to be rooted in, always.
What changes my life about Jesus & His gospel is this: broken as I am, awful as I am, He loves me.
He loves me so.

He is jealous for me,
Loves like a hurricane, I am a tree…
Bending beneath the weight of His wind & mercy.
When all of a sudden I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by Glory,
& I realize just how beautiful you are, & how great your affections are for me.

Oh, how He loves us. Oh, how He loves us, how He loves us so.

We are His portion & He is our prize,
drawn to redemption by the Grace in His eyes.
If Grace is an ocean, we’re all sinking.
So Heaven meets earth like a sloppy wet kiss,
& my heart turns violently inside of my chest.
I don’t have time to maintain these regrets when
I think about, the Way

He loves us, whoa how He loves us.
Oh, how He loves us.

Well, I thought about You on the day Stephen died,
& You met me between my breaking.
I know that I still love You, God, despite the agony.
{These people, they} want to tell me You’re cruel.
But if Stephen could sing, he’d say it’s not true.
‘Cause He loves us. Whoa, how He loves us. Whoa, how He loves.

My heart is most at risk in the moments that I forget this.
My journey is most unworthy when I choose to let go of this truth.
This truth that sets my heart free to live and learn and be in His presence.