Hey ladies and gentlemen, my good friend and spiritual leader, Joshua Healey, made a video that expresses God’s truth and promise. I encourage you to take 2 minutes to watch his video. I have below the video the lyrics from this spoken word poem, and if anyone has any questions about what he means in this video, I encourage you to get a hold of me.
Fruition
By Joshua Healey
I am miserably lost, I just can’t find it
It’s like being a million miles from the treasure,
And yet you’re standing right behind it.
I’ve been searching everywhere for acceptance,
But all the more I am denied it.
And even on my brighter days,
It’s impossible to hide it.
See, how can I conceal this canyon inside of my soul?
While I am under this rolling erosion, a hopeless implosion,
Rotting away, like there’s no shot today,
For me to be whole.
Constantly feeling purposeless, like setting a thousand glamorous goals.
And reaching every last one, without ever understanding my role…
This cycle eats away, like a chewer’s mouth full of Skoal.
Alone, Like the unredeemable separation the south feels from the North Pole.
And trying to make everything appear ok, it does nothing in this cold,
It’s like taking manure and coating it in gold.
With all due respect, please don’t provide me with directions, where I will be told
To grab a copy of “finding happiness for dummies”, I’ll never be sold.
Well perhaps this diagnosis is a wretched discontentment,
Disconnected from true value, from true meaning left bereft.
Where life violently rips any piece of peace we’re left with.
And kicks us to the curb,
We are disturbed by our versions of happiness that turned out to be myths.
Misled by the talking heads and their masquerade of tricks.
Meanwhile the media loudly whispers “cheap thrills will make you rich”.
And this, I beg to fix.
But I can’t be in the mix,
I must trust in Something greater to free me from this glitch.
Like Someone who knows the sting of a thorn, but loves despite the prick.
Is there a Source of meaning,
In a lost and unraveling world, a stitch?
If there was, I’d be fixed.
I’d be broken but I’d be fixed,
In the same exact way you fix a fire with broken sticks.
And such meaning I wish to find,
Because all my life, these “meanings” I’ve missed.
No doctor do I know to tote an antidote like this.
To medicate my identity,
One that’s lost in deep remiss.
Well perhaps we’re searching for restoration,
From the God that we’ve dismissed.
But refused to admit we missed him, because our hearts are sick.
But I guess some of us would rather die from this disease than feel the healing prick.
So we cry out,
What I covet, what I hold, please remove it from my fists.
I beg of you to take it though my flesh resists this risk.
Please bring to fruition within me, the work that pierced Your wrists.
Breathing meaning into my life, the only meaning that exists.
By Joshua Healey
The Cross-Between 