With Thanks to David Crowder and NASA's picture of the day

So I've got this problem. I want everything to be nice and wonderful and disgustingly sitcom-esque. And, as evidenced by my adjective, I apparently have a problem with nice, wonderful and sitcom-esque worlds.
I've got this other problem. I think maybe Paul might have mentioned it. I want to do good, promise I do, but I keep on failing. A lot. It's quite obnoxious. What I want to do, I don't and what I don't want to do, I do.

But the harder I try the more clearly can I feel
The depth of our fall and the weight of it all
And so this might could be the most impossible thing
Your grandness in me making me clean.


Did you ever see a such a colorful hybrid as the human? Made to be light and yet covered in dark. Or, better, made to reflect light and covered in dirt. Imagine dusty old mirrors and smile because dust is dead human skin cells, entirely our fault. Well, at this point, debatable as the dust could occur because of the situation of the mirror, etc,. but we're going to let that go for the aesthetics of the analogy.

See, this dirt thing, this dust thing, I seem to have a bit of a problem with it. From whence does it come? And what purpose does it serve? Should there be any good reason why we should have dust? I mean, couldn't God make a universe without dust? He's good a stuff like that. Making universes, I mean. Well, He's good at everything. Over achiever.

I get really mad at it too. All these philosophical problems I have are just excuses not to face the music. It's really scary music, though! It doesn't sound pretty, it's definitely atonal and clashy. It's not even haunting or heart wrenching. And all these metaphors are ways to dress up this abominable separation and if I don't say it, I will never admit that there hasn't been a full half hour that I've been able to have a conversation with God that doesn't turn into a lengthy string of accusatory shouts in months. I feel so fake. I am so fake. I want to fix it, so badly, but every time I get to fixing it, I get so mad that it was broken in the first place (forget that I broke it, He shouldn't have left the three year old alone in the china shop) that I never get two sincere words of apology in edgewise.

The heart breaking makes a sound
I never knew could be
So beautiful and loud
Fury filled and we collide

So courageous until now
Fumbling and scared
So afraid You'll find me out,
Alone here with my doubt.

Here it comes, a beautiful collision.
And I don't want this cycle of death, yet I smile when I hear that a song of immense faith is followed by a song of immense doubt. Oh, God, where are you now? He always waits until I need Him and maybe I'd feel better if I was the one that was right for once, but then again, probably not. And my life is bright sunlight all around me framed by huge storm clouds just waiting. There is nothing more beautiful to me because I know that the storm is just water around dust, grace covering humans, it just takes some looking to see.

Starlight is white or blue or red or yellow, but it's just a pinprick of pure light until it's blocked by a cloud of... dust... And then the Universe is beyond beautiful.