But instead I hate being at home. I hate housekeeping, and I hate listing "ways in which I was productive today" and feeling like there are never enough.
I have been like this for as long as I can remember. I wanted to join every club, be in every play, every musical group, speech competitions, work. I was always spinning 5 plates on something imaginary.
So now I have this weird schedule where I work 12 hours one day, and then only a few hours each day the rest of the week. I earn some money at home, writing, and sometimes singing. And I may be going insane.
"I thought you said this post was about Jesus?" you may be asking yourself.
This week a few things happened. A school shooting happened. I am a teacher, and my children are students, and when a shooting happens I lose all sense of peace. I am a wreck. I hate my husband. I just donated money to something hoping that would assuage the horrible sense of sadness (I over-empathize with each victim, I feel sick to my stomach, and I blame everyone for any response that doesn't seem genuinely and totally compassionate. I have nightmares, and sometimes I can't sleep for days.
You may be thinking, at this point, that this will be something about Jesus and tragedy, but it isn't.
It's about my struggle in faith when I hear the inner thoughts of "devout" people. You see, to me the worst thing about social media is knowing what other people think. I trusted people--they may not even know I read it--7 or 8 words? and now I don't trust them. That happens a lot. One insight into the inner workings of another's mind and I don't like them. Sometimes I quickly unfriend, I walk away, and I forget. I start thinking of them by the way they present themselves to me, and not by what they said to a family member or friend. And the relationship remains, mostly, preserved.
But some--once I have seen what they think, I am left with this question, "How can your Jesus look so different from mine? And who is Jesus, who is the cornerstone of my life, if you--you who are devout, who claim to love him, who tell others about him--who is he really? Because he can't be all these conflicting things. He can't delight in the pain of others, as you seem to think he does, and yet fully experience the pain of his creation, as I think he does. He can't think we should reject immigrants and welcome them. These are not political anymore to me, there are underlying spiritual aspects to this.
And the struggle is here. Because if you compare my Jesus with others in my life--it's not the same God. It's not the same words. It's not the same meanings. It's not the same set of standards we are each living. I don't say a prayer with that person and erase everything I know they seem to believe so adamantly. And if you can make up your Jesus, maybe I'm making up mine. So there you go. It hurts and it asks me over and over and it keeps me up at night.
And all I want to do is learn who He is. Because he said you'd disappoint me anyways. He said, "