Sunday Solemness

Just got home.

Current song: What it costs – Switchfoot

My stomach feels empty. My lips feel dry. I feel drained. It’s as though I haven’t eaten in days. Yet I just had a meal a few hours ago. I know this feeling; it’s not new. I know that if I go to the doctor he’ll say something like,

“We’ve found that your blood count is low. That’s why you’re feeling groggy. You need to take a break, drink a lot of fluids and eat your fruits. Otherwise, you’ll be fine in no time.”

So, I’ll stay away from the doctor. I’ll just take his ungiven advice. For now I have a box of teabags I will draw from and drink as I listen to Switchfoot.

It was an interesting evening. The kind you let your frustrations out. Your dementia finally has an audience. Your mask is either being taken off or being carved indistinctively into your face.

See, you come face to face with who you really are and either accept or fight it.

I’m in love with the dystopian. Perhaps because the utopian is a far cry from reality. Perhaps because tears have been easier to find than the laughter. Perhaps because the doors have shut in the face more than they have opened. Perhaps because I waited for hope till the rivers ran dry.

You know, you’ve sang hymns till you wonder whether they fit in the 21st Century.

However that’s not the point. I have said time and time again, Switchfoot are my favourite band and lately they seem to be the one thread that has me and God connected. Not as though God and I are a weave of thread (but yet we are…) but I got tired of the lipstick feel good brand of some music; especially the kind they call gospel. The kind that nicely blurs the pain with beautiful notes.

Switchfoot posted on their instagram recently

“A song for me is a chance to explore some sort of question that I have, it’s not a rhetorical question, it’s a question that I’m kind of struggling with I guess. – Jon”.

I remembered the many times I had questions, frustrations and did not want to let them out because it was not what was expected or what was taught. So I kept the smile on. I kept on sweeping this discontent under the carpet hoping maybe it would miraculously disappear. It did not. It was like a pile of toxic waste that kept brewing. Last December I almost tipped over.

Back to Switchfoot though. Their latest blog was really timely for me as there were so many sentences I could copy and paste into my journal for remembrance. However, if I had to take anything from it, it was this

“God doesn’t need a lawyer,” he said, “Your job is to be honest.” I need these reminders more than anyone. That which is hidden is empowered. So bring it to light. Face your shortcomings. Sing about your deepest fears. Don’t pull punches. Swing as hard as you can. You’re not alone.

Maybe we turn into our darkness when we keep it hidden, away from the light? Maybe doubt is neccessary for answers. Maybe our true selves are struggling to come undone so they can meet truth and rest. It’s not a promise of relief because relief itself is in the honesty. If relief comes, Amen. If relief delays, Amen. “The shadow proves the sun shine.” – Switchfoot

My back is aching, my lips are still dry, my tummy still feels like a wheel of hunger but my tea is done, the song is ending. I will go to bed with relief that God doesn’t need a lawyer. Maybe my mask is off maybe it is being carved, we all know God didn’t come for the spiritual supermodels.

Good night.

Featured Image – Switchfoot Facebook

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