The Faithful

For so long they've hid
in their towers
behind their walls.

They were like a club
exclusive to middle class
exclusive to hymnal bigotry.

For so long they plagued me,
logic questioned their motivation.
Why and how could humility be
so ingrained in what we see
when we look at them?

Then one day, I became one of them
the faithful few who walk in the light
and try to love everyone we meet.

Little did I know how Metallica was
still my theme song, holier than thou.
My heart song was to see the lost saved,
not realized how lost I still was... chasing
striving to become someone new,
not seeing God created me.

So the faithful have been a family
they are not who I thought I saw
on the television, the distorted reality.

Jesus is love, and so is the Church,
so long as it's not poisoned with bigotry.

Let my brothers and sisters rise up in love,
and not judge, but dine with sinners in humility.

Self

Sometimes I hate myself

but usually I try to love myself

because I'm supposed to.

Jesus said to love thy neighbor

as yourself, but if I hate everything

about me, how the hell do I love them?

I thought I heard something at 23

a call on my life that I wanted, and was there...

but in a way that I just couldn't seem to see.

I chased the mic and the stage for years,

completely abandoning my love of words.

I thought everything about me was bad.

I hated myself, everything about me was evil.

So I destroyed as much of my own work as I

could find... persecuted myself, alienated myself.

Words come to mind... bigot being chief among them.

But at the time, it was innocent,

I was only doing what I thought was right.

But still... it was all about me from the beginning.

The adrenaline rush of preaching to strangers

replaced the nicotine and alcohol.

All these years later, finding balance

finding humility

I find my humanity.

My created value.

My God-given gifting.

With dying to self and obedient self-sacrifice,

I find Jesus stops the knife more than we think.

I'm Back

The higher my peaks

The lower my valleys.

It’s easy to be the holy man on top of the mountain

But in the streets aren’t we all sinners?

Don’t we all have things that catch us up

And guilt us into starting all over?

The Devil knocks us from pro’s to beginners.

At least that’s what we tell ourselves.

The truth is that only you’ve got the power

To knock yourself to the ground or

Pick yourself back up and

Start climbing the tower

That you just fell from.

The higher our peaks

The lower our valleys.

I’ve lived my life from peak to peak,

A roller coaster of emotion and a

Constant reminder of my failure to be consistent.

I’ve done my best to keep up. Oxy can’t stop the pain.

A nose-full of Adderal couldn’t stop

My eyes from closing or keep me sane.

From spiritual authority over demons to

Not being sure if I’m awake or dreaming.

The higher my peaks

The lower my valleys.

A passion reignited, words bubbling to the surface

For the first time in years I am inspired

For the first time in years I have purpose.

Until I can thrive in the valley,

I don’t deserve the mountaintop.

I'm back.