Most days, I feel as though I am in a spiritual black hole. I know that there is something there; it is all around me, and I progress through it, with no guidance, no direct intervention, and no ending. I believe in a being. Whether it is the being of elementary Sunday school, the being of the nation of Israel, the being who calms our spirits during yoga, the being behind all the coincidences and lucky happenings and seemingly unmistakable miracles, or all of the above, it is there. Somewhere.
Sometimes, I go to church. Most times, attendance is out of a sense of obligation, either to my mother, religious friends, deep-rooted inner scripts, or a guilty conscience. Today, I went to church for none of these reasons. I went for me.
I went, because I want to know what I believe. I want to know what I don't believe. If this being is here, I want to know him. I want to know why the only concept that I truly feel grounded in is love. And, if this being, God, is love, how many forms of love he takes on. Is he a selective love, a gender-biased love, a wait till your wedding day love, a temporary love, a passionate love, a gentle yet steady love, a wild love, a love found only in the church pew, or a love found in every plant, star, romantic book, ancient hymn and heathen heart?
Is hell truly a place of brimstone, or simply a place that love has left?
I wonder which is worse.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment