verse 3... silly rabbit, hats are for heads...

every so often God offers me mercy,
and every so often the mercy hurts me,
and when mercy hurts me, i feel mercy's cursed me,
and maybe that's because i see what's earthly firstly,
but when i'm seeing earthly firstly, mercy bursts me,
and desert wind diverts me, while i'm still so thirsty,
and everyone who could immerse me just answers me tersely,
believing their facade converts me while they bow and curtsey,
but conversely, it's the churchy fraud that hurts me worstly.
Christ, search me before another controversy subverts me.

appearances are deadly things... and christians are mostly about appearances... it's not that we're worse than anyone else when we sin, just that we try to make it look like we're better than everyone else while really, we're the same. our sins are no smaller than those of others, but we slap Christ's sacrifice over them like a cheap curtain on a corpse, or a perfume that is supposed to mask the scent of death, but really just makes it more horrid.

why can't we just be honest, not just others, but with ourselves? honest about the things of which we're capable, honest about the human feelings that we have, honest about the difficulties we have in being perfect all the time, not realizing that nobody's called to BE perfect, only to try to be BETTER than they were. honest about the fact that sometimes, we fail, that sometimes, we can't do it the right way, that sometimes, our weaknesses are going to win. not all the time, but sometimes. because we're human. because nobody wins all the time.

today's message, the sharing of which was inspired in part by one of mike's recent posts about gossip:
"please, if you're going to hate me, hate me openly. don't just point that reassuring grin at me as you casually saw my legs off, because unless you're a professional magician, i'm probably just going to end up hurt, and that might not matter to you, but it matters to me."

magic is all about appearance. you see the object disappear, you see the sword pierce the beautiful assistant, you see the man burst into flames, only to be reduced to a handfull of doves that fly to the rafters as he emerges from a cake in the back of the room. in the end, none of it is real, but that just makes it more impressive to us, that he was able to conjur so believable a facsimile of reality. the more we're convinced it's real, the more we applaud our deception. maybe it's time to stop clapping and leave the auditorium. and maybe it's time to be impressed with reality, instead of trying to undermine it with our own constructs that are creative, beautiful, entertaining, and so full of deceit that the truth is being lost in a black felt hat, getting ready to perform the trick that will leave us ALL fooled, holding a white rabbit by the ears and wondering where the hell our truth went, and why we can't pull anything out of the hat that can save us from ourselves.