this is a type of autobiographical work. biased, of course.
larry d. rosalez-lewis
26yrs old | gainesville, fl
234 and more
when a man takes a girl’s body
how many nights of sleep
do you think
as many as her father?
or her mother?
how good god is | THURSDAY NIGHT
thursday night i had sex with a man.
i don’t know what else could have been a more humbling experience than that. this dismisses any remnant of thought suggesting that i’ve reached any height of spiritual maturity or any fullness of self control or any sense of having-it-all-togetherness. it only felt like i fell so far because i had a view of myself that was so high up. so mighty. so past that. i exalted myself thinking a few years of non-sex and some nuggets of less-than-common knowledge here and there erased my connection to adamic nature or my susceptibality to deceitful enticements.
for a moment it felt sweet. maybe for longer than a few moments it felt sweet. but by the end of it i just felt dirty. when he left, i layed in bed naked and groaning.
friday morning i prayed.
i cried. i cried out.
and god, more immediately than i expected or wanted to believe was possible, answered me in mercy. he delivered me from feeling like i had to fill up X number of vials of tears before i could experience his love again. he delivered me from thinking i had to mourn and condemn myself and sit in the corner for X number of days weeks months before i could experience his joy again. even in light of knowing that there’s no condemnation for those in iesous christos, even knowing that we should put the past behind us and press on towards the promises ahead (with no specification on how far “past” needed to be before moving on), even knowing that the son bore my sin once and for all, knowing i have an intercessor with the father, knowing i shouldn’t have ever had trust or hope in my strength in the first place, i wanted to believe lies.
i couldn’t fathom that these truths could be immediately applicable to my situation and i wanted to run away & hide & sew up fig leaves. i wanted to purify myself in mourning before looking at god’s kindness again. i wanted to believe that i was ruined and that it’s not possible for me to love god and that i had done something so grevious and unpardonable that i could never know the weightlessness of grace again, but he didn’t let me believe that.
friday was joyful.
i was able to taste and see again that god is good. i was able to acquaint myself with an even more merciful, more forgiving, more compassionate and more rich in love diety than i had known before. i don’t feel ashamed to say what i did because what i do doesn’t change who god is. i see what it means that in my weakness god is made stronger. i see what it means that if sin abounds, grace abounds all the more. i see what it means that there’s no one who can stand and accuse. i see what it means that if we confess our sins, even the heavy, how-could-you-let-this-happen-you-know-so-much-better-than-that-sins, to one another he is faithful and just to forgive us. i’m grateful for that. i’m so grateful for that.
i have a whole new understanding about what the psalmist sings about when he said give thanks to yhuh for his steadfast love is everlasting. when he sings yhuh you are good and your mercy endures forever (and understanding that forever doesn’t stop because i messed up). when he sings this poor one cried out and yhuh heard him. my heart sings with him. god is really really good.
saturday was joyful.
today has been joyful.
my heart has been so full and at peace.
i don’t deserve this.
and that gives me all the more reason to sing about how good god is.
20 jul 2014
The function, the very serious function, of racism is distraction. It keeps you from doing your work. It keeps you explaining, over and over again, your reason for being. Somebody says you have no language, so you spend twenty years proving that you do. Somebody says your head isn’t shaped properly, so you have scientists working on the fact that it is. Somebody says you have no art, so you dredge that up. Somebody says you have no kingdoms, so you dredge that up. None of that is necessary. There will always be one more thing.
— Toni Morrison
If you love something that somebody does—some art, some words, some sounds—you tell them that you love it. You tell everyone how much you love it, repeatedly and enthusiastically. Don’t save your appreciation for later, or worry about wearing people out with your passion. Because the happy truth is this: If a piece of art truly moves you, you will never, ever run out of new adjectives to express how much you love it. Getting to love someone’s art is one of the very finest parts of being alive.
Furthermore, a friend is called the guardian of love, or, as
some prefer, the guardian of the soul itself. Why? Because it is proper for my friend to be the guardian of mutual love or of my very soul, that he may in loyal silence protect all the secrets of my spirit and may bear and endure according to his ability anything wicked he sees in my soul. For the friend will rejoice with my soul rejoicing, grieve with it grieving, and feel that everything that belongs to a friend belongs to himself.
— aelred of rievaulx - "spiritual friendship" p. 59