The Cranky Love of Christ


The Cranky Love of Christ

I loved to hate the limits

And now

Having finally found them, through God and enough failure,

It feels like heresy to say that actually?

I kind of love them.

So many passionate people, self-caring and keeping, just so long as their “fire” doesn’t run out,

And me and the rest of the body of Jesus,

And I swear to God, he can take my fire if he wants it.

You get to these big cement slabs

And you realize after picking away with a toolkit of toothpicks, ashes, and a mop

That what you’re doing isn’t working,

And what he’s done has.

And you get tired,

And cranky,

And throw these epic last hissy fits,

And accept in, falling into your own stupid graces,

Falling into worrying about “If Jesus would be proud of me” if he came back,

Like other Christian friends worry about,

And if he showed up right now, would he be pissed if I was writing,

Instead of doing jumping jacks,

And would he be angry that I didn’t have my Bible cannon out, shooting off Bibles into the distance,

And would he understand.

We come up against these limits in our families,

And no, she’ll never change that quirk,

And yes, he may always give in on that particular issue,

And like litmus tests of our bitterness,

Do we condemn?

I swear to God I’m turning into my parent’s and I’m not exactly thrilled,

But they are good people, for the most part,

And holy crap, I’m just so not ready for that,

But it’s happening,

And “so be it”.

I look back over some of the things I’ve written,

And although I believe that it was necessary for me to have written some of it,

I also know that it’s necessary now for me to not believe some of it too.

I will never know so many things,

But the striving after knowing makes me physically weak when the endurance I need

Comes from the Lord.

[I can’t figure it out]

But it’s good.

These freaking arrows and thorns that we cast against one another,

And the lone, inner voice of sanity crying out in the darkness:

[“Maybe you aren’t right??”]

I’m not right,

I can’t be right,

Right isn’t something that can be truly mine,

And thank God.

Do I only admit I’m wrong to admit I’m wrong and be less wrong than you?

The question of the day.

This rabbit hole is like a freaking black hole on one side, and comforting peace on the other,

And quite frankly, I would be HAPPY to have it this unfigured out by the time I die,

Because I’ve reached my limits,

And I’m just struggling to be okay with them.

When you see something for what it is and don’t turn away,

How long does it take before you start to wince and whine?

Do you forget your place,

Do you realize it?

Do you keep going,

Or do you keep whining?

For the love of God, which was shed for me,

I have so little I know for sure,

And that is an infinite blessing.

It statistics,

When most of your data points are on the left side of the bell curve of what should be normal,

You have a “floor effect”,

Meaning that for almost all scores, except the outliers to the right,

Most people cannot rise above a certain range,

And those limits become more visually permanent, the bigger your sample size.


I can’t come close to God

And neither can you

Or you

All of us, really.

We can try,

We can be super honest, and make these fabulous graphs and trophies, and make it all more special and trumped up than it should be,

But in reality?

God is the infinite one, and we are not,

And it’s always going to be a glass ceiling of getting your crap together,

Which is why THANK GOD Jesus came.

We get angry at people who “just don’t get it”

It’s like a parable-speaking Jesus to realize that

“Oh crap. No man, that’s me.”

And we never voice it,

And we never talk about it nearly half as much as we whine,

And we never confront the stupid sin because He saved us and Did it For Us

But come on,

If it was that simple than we’d have been freeze dried and packaged, ready for Judgment Day like, over a thousand years ago,

All the Gentiles would have been told by now,

I for one would not have been grafted in,

And even though it’s God who judges and not me,

From what I can tell,

That would have really sucked.

He does good things, and all of them,

But the best part is that we get to share,

We get to testify about his goodness in our lives,

We get to serve as the living body of Christ,

Which was resurrected and redeemed,

And is in this state of waiting til he comes back,

And even if the world is a mixed bag from basically the garden,

It’s pretty great to know the love of Christ while you walk upon on,

No matter how cranky you get.


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I am a second-grade teacher and pastor-to-be who loves people. I spend my weekends with friends or wandering the museums of DC alone and with a journal, trying to put words on the places of the soul that still feel wordless. I spent most of my days at school trying to learn patience through my students and running on sheer nerdy passion. I follow Jesus Christ, and savor that as my most important identity--that I am a child of God, as are infinite others, regardless of their other identities. Christ is my one thing.

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