Self-Centered Selflessness

Sometimes I don’t recognize myself.  I look in the mirror and I see that my wish to be a strong Christian has fallen into disrepair as I focus upon myself.  What makes this harder still is the fact that sometimes selfishness disguises itself as genuine care.  Often I think that I am being caring of someone else, but really I am merely trying to justify my need to cultivate a particular feeling within.  I become that which I loathe, but the cycle continues even with my most sincere attempts at objectivity.

Shattering dreams become self fulfilling prophecies which are grown through my insincerity and insecurity.  I know that I am secure, so why can’t I live like it.  My foundation is firm, but my walls crumble under the gentlest winds.  Why is this?

My Lord, what am I?
Soldier, saint, or servant?
Strong, broken, or humble?
In strength I become weak,
And as a soldier I become a coward.
My Lord, what am I?

When I wander away, that is when this identity crisis rises to my mind.  Yet, the self suffocates under my self-centered selflessness.  I need to be restored to humility.  I fell to pride as my eyes turned within.  To die to self is what I need.

Comments

  1. The Mad Piano ManApril 9, 2011 at 12:59 AM

    The simple honesty is really great in this one, Jesse. Thanks for posting these thoughts (and man can I relate to them). Keep it up, my friend.

    ReplyDelete
  2. AnonymousApril 13, 2011 at 1:23 PM

    I resonate with this, and it was beautifully and eloquently expressed. Thank you :)

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Meditations on Ecclesiastes

Meaningless! Everything bides its time! Meaningless! What is this terrible crime? Evil or righteous, Both will still die. All is contemptuous, Feel tears that we cry. Broken and battered, Our lives will lie shattered. Is happiness naught but a lie? Meaningless! Chasing after the wind! Meaningless! The darkness has grinned! Perseverance or pleasure, Both will still rot. Contemplations and treasure, Both come to naught. Shattered and torn, We bear a horrible thorn. Decay is at its terrible leisure. Meaningless! Standing all alone! Meaningless! Living as one’s own! Labor and toil, Merely chase the wind. Within the mortal coil, Pain and grief grinned. Sleep has no peace, Cares do not cease. Man returns to the soil. Meaningless! Enough never exists! Meaningless! Joy constantly resists! Riches come to harm, And steal joy relentlessly. Wealth has no charm, And deprive sleep incessantly. Appetites never satisfied, Unto the day man died. Abundance simply awaits alarm. Meaningless! All t...
Read more

Rumination on Paths Already Tread

  It was six years ago to the day that I am writing this, that my grandma called me out of the blue.  Much like today, the sun was out and spring was in full swing.  If memory serves me correctly though, it was much colder. Although the sun took most of the nip away, it was chilly on the porch as I answered her call.  When the phone rang, I had been sitting close to a couple of space heaters while breaking for lunch, so had stepped out to the most likely place that the signal would remain consistent.   Of what was said, many of the specifics having faded with time, all I can remember with much surety is that she wanted to know how my wife and I's then two month old son was.  He was fine, very healthy in fact, but she had made a point to pray for him and his health.  To this day the physical healthiness that he exhibits still strikes me as an answered prayer, so sincere was her concern. It was not unusual for me to talk to her on the phone, as we h...
Read more

Look Upon the Sunrise

As I look upon the sunrise, I leave behind the past. As I see behind the lies, I find freedom at last. No darkness can accuse, As evil I refuse. As I look upon the sunrise, I look to what's ahead. As I gaze at the blue skies, I leave behind my dread. Civility returns to me, By His blood I am free. As I look upon the sunrise, I remember a Creator. As I listen to my cries, I stumble like before. No longer bowing to hate, This is not my fate. As I look upon the sunrise, I see my scars dissolve. As I tremble and rise, I feel the blissful salve. Eyes cleared of the dirt, Joy comes from past's hurt.
Read more