When you feel like just shutting it all down, closing the doors (imagining of course they’re mine to close). People are so ungrateful, so selfish and self centered, i see it so clearly in myself and even more clearly in others. Humanity is so lazy when it comes to all the right things and so zealous and motivated when it comes to all of the wrong things (or so it seems). If i am able to see it, if we are like that towards those we can see and physically interact with then how much more severe is the problem when it comes to the One we cannot see, we cannot always feel, or cannot physically interact with (or so it seems). This complacency is a cancer destroying us from the inside out. This lack of satisfaction in the One Thing. The One Thing that matters, the one thing that has any weight of glory or worth. This is the One Thing that constantly goes unnoticed, goes purposely ignored.
We are such a stiff-necked, rebellious people. We revel and pleasure ourselves inside our houses like filthy swine rolling around in the filth we eat and have eaten and will soon eat again. We demand that our entire existence and the surrounding universe revolve around those pleasures. The only problem is our existence and this universe thankfully cannot ever, not even for but one moment, facilitate those pleasures. The moment we think we have manipulated the order of the universe, that we have ‘got one by The Man’, is the moment that we sowed our corruptible seed and we immediately reaped our corruption—our conflict began. We will always reap death and destruction; it makes no matter how beautiful the seeds we sow look like, how pleasant they feel or smell or even how wonderful they taste. It doesn’t even matter what they sound like accompanying the music in their hollow homes.
We are dying of starvation and malnutrition while we sit at a banqueting table. Are we blind or are just not willing to see? Does the answer to that make any difference?
We often don’t like what we see and assume we are just reading the wrong script. “Um, excuse me, stop everything, I believe I have the wrong script, I must have picked up someone else’s part. This couldn’t possibly be my role.” We’re pretending to be in an imaginary theater all the while sheepishly standing on the stage (the only stage) as the extra, the casualty, the butt of the joke wanting nothing more than to simply run off the stage, escaping the spotlights and hide behind the curtain in the shadows. But escaping the stage isn’t going to be as easy as you may think, go ahead and try but you will soon find that the stage transcends you because the story transcends you. You’re always in front of an audience.
N.D. Wilson observes from a tilt-a-whirl: Complain. Whine. Be a fusser. The story needs those as well, because every butt needs a joke, and the audience must laugh. Whether they (and God) laugh at or with is up to you.
The curtains have already been torn away revealing the stage. There is no other theater and no alternate scrips to be the wrong ones to read. There is one stage—one story. You are a part whether you like it or not, all of creation is. You can kick and scream but you are here now and the story needs that too, consequently the author cast you even though you didn’t make the audition—you didn’t even sign up…