It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in men.
-Psalm 118:8-
Feeling cold, feeling empty, set the stage where you want me
And this crowd right before me, doesn't care that I'm dying
And the audience stands with their eyes fixed
On this preconceived notion of me
I'm so betrayed by your hopes
But I will not hide myself for your peace of mind
Raise a boy to be a cynic
Take his love and then let it
Turn into something passionate
Something sick, something rabid
And I want to keep myself from caving
I don't hate you, I just hate where I'm heading
I'm left here asking, when did I trade in
My bleeding heart for a selfish win?
Oh but mother, I've got vices like any other man
Vices that you're not used to
Vices that'll make you think less of me
Leave me numb, leave me jaded
She's a dream, I just play dead
I've been blessed, I've been hated
She's the constant and I'm her addict
She's the only peace in my world
I'm uneasy while I bite my tongue
To keep from breaking the heart
That I've spent my whole life seeking
The only heart I've ever needed
Oh but lover, I've got vices like any other man
Vices that you're not used to
Vices that'll make you think less of me
Feeling cold, feeling empty, I am low and unworthy
Bleed the God, bleed the blessing, like a vulture feasting
I'll exist as if I don't feel conviction
Of my ignorance to my perfect prison
But I feel the stabs on my wrists and ankles
Every time I try to forget You
Oh but Jesus, I've got vices like any other man
Vices that You're so used to
Vices that won't make You think less of me
-Dead Poetic-
I arrived back in Iraq after brief travels through Hungary and Kuwait, despite being stranded in Baghdad for five days because of rain. In the desert. See, you quote Isaiah about streams in the desert and look what happens.
As with any Christian, I have spiritual speaks and valleys in my life, and I can already feel the next downhill tug. The isolation out here after experiencing Passion in Dallas feels more like a train wreck or crash, so perhaps ‘tug’ is no the correct choice of words.
I have been working on a few more substantial entries from my Bible studies and quiet time to put on here later. I have felt horribly conflicted as I am writing one entry on being totally committed to Christ. While writing that entry, I keep allowing myself to be pulled away by other distractions, other things to be done, games to play, movies to watch. Convenient, eh? When you read this entry later, please, please, please know that I write this entry for myself more than anybody else. I wish I was completely devoted to Christ above and beyond any other person or thing in my life... but though I strive for that goal, I constantly slip, fall and fail.
Please be in prayer for me as I work on finishing the above mentioned entry; and as I go about resuming my day-to-day routine in Kut that I’ll set aside time for God to move in and through me, and that all these distractions I face will fall by the wayside as I turn and trust in Him and only Him.
Anyway, back home from leave. With the guys. This is normally a joyous, back-slapping adventure into machoism as each soldier returning from R&R takes turns swapping stories of how they spent their entire time on leave high, drunk, and hung over. Did I miss something somewhere?
“Man, I was so wasted, I don’t remember anything about my leave since I got off the plane!” Yes, that’s great... and I should be excited for you, because... A few guys notice my blank stares at the madness unveiling itself before my eyes.
Ah, here it comes. “Well, Dawkins, what about you?” Yes, this; a part of me had been dreading this since I stepped on that plane en route over the Atlantic once more.
The average soldier has a rather funny perception of a religious person in the Army, particularly those who have been obviously born and raised in a church environment. They seem to believe that as soon as these religious few step out into the world with “Pandora’s Box” before them, that they’ll go diving in and never look back.
This degrading insult of my faith and character has followed me through every step of the Army. In Basic and AIT, it was ‘guaranteed’ that before graduation that I would be sleeping around, drinking the bars dry, and cursing like a sailor - like everyone else. When I first arrived in Korea, my roommate merely looked at me in disbelief when I told him that I did not drink. “We’ll see how long that lasts...”
But above any other event in a soldier’s military career, here is the pinnacle of the hurdle. If ever there was a time to go out and just be stupid, this was it. Two weeks of leave in the middle of a fifteen month deployment to a combat zone. I suppose it is easier to live without regrets when you know when you’re one unlucky mortar round impact from leaving this world.
Oh yes, my story is glamorous. I went home on leave from Iraq on my 21st birthday. I watched the Super Bowl on a 92-inch screen, interrupted only by a brief game of foosball with my dad at halftime. I opened the door for my mom at a half-dozen restaurants as I was treated to all of my favorites. I drove four hours to Marshall and sat through a two-hour choir concert just to see my sister for a few more minutes before flying back. I probably spent an hour on the phone (a miracle in itself- you all know how I feel about talking on the phone) watching new episodes of The Office with my best friend in Mississippi. After skipping through half the CD, I finally got a Demon Hunter song stuck in yet another friend’s head, lol. I had joyous and exuberant moments, I felt broken and lonely at others. I was plagued with anxious thoughts, awkward times, embarrassing pauses. Through all of the peaks and all of the valleys, for better or worse, I truly relished in every moment... I really lived!
I didn’t consume a drop of alcohol, I didn’t run out and have gratuitous sex. I remember every second that I was awake for those few weeks. I never woke up dry heaving on the side of some foreign toilet, never caved into the thoughts of the jabs and peer pressure awaiting my overseas return... and I wouldn’t change a thing.
But how do you explain this to a group of young men bloodthirsty for tales of lust and debauchery? Well, you start by just trying. Some returned the same clueless blank stare that I gave them earlier, they don’t get it. I sense admiration in some of my closer friends. I see a nod here and there from a couple of the guys that I’ve had a few theological debates with and they don’t seem to be surprised at what I’m sharing. I wonder how many of them are calling me a fruitcake right now... (Inside joke from Passion, sorry)
For better or worse, I seem to be viewed in a different light around the unit. Suddenly, I’m a target for our devoted atheist/agnostic/anti-anything-worth-arguing-against group. Perhaps wore, I’m held on a pedestal by the believers around me. This isn’t what I wanted, I never would have wished for this. I’m getting to that entry about being completely devoted to Christ, so I want to at least clarify this for those reading one last time before you get to it - I’m not perfect! I’m just as human as you, I make mistakes just like everybody else.
It’s one thing to set an example for others, but suddenly I feel like people look to me as though I’m infallible. Nobody could possibly live up to expectations like those except Jesus. I worry that I’ll let down others and hurt the few believers that I have surrounded myself with. I pray they’ll understand that hope and faith should be placed in Christ and Christ alone, who will never fail you. Putting your faith in people only leads to disappointment... and those people shouldn’t have to deal with the pressure, weight, and scars that come when others look to them as this world’s sinless answer.
In this sinless city, wear callouses on our hands
Empty, vain and shaking, we see the guilt has left again
And all will fall, with or without arguing
So we'll fool them all, we'll pray for those that never will
Never been much for pity
Never been much for wishing them well
Though I cannot help but sever
The ties they tied so tight, so well
And on one side, they're holding on to what we were
And here we are, holding the hands that we severed
And we both let go, over and over again
Don't say this isn't what you're used to
I've seen followers like you
I've let down far worse than you
The fire burns like cancer, the scarring lasts forever
We all play tricks on fools who see us as their sinless answer
-Dead Poetic-
