Right-Wing Rant Reconsidered

I know that superbowl post sounded like:
A right-wing, fundamentalist, fist slamming, eye popping, blowhard preacher with a fat double chin and a sweaty brow messing up a bad hair piece.

Sheesh...what can I say...I was ticked off.

After simmering down a bit, I realized a few things:

I am afraid.

I'm afraid for my daughters and my sons.

I'm afraid of the darkness that seems to be lurking in seemingly innocent places.

I'm terrified of the sin that is hiding in our blood; that seems to spurt out from us like an unexpected wound. You know, like the one you got from stepping on that nail while you were running around the yard barefoot.

I'm frustrated with living on a planet that is dying by it's own hand.

I'm tired.

Tired of being shocked by darkness.
Shocked like the man laying on a gurney gets shocked by those big paddles full of heart jolting juice.

Tired of witnessing another day of mind numbing Christianity that has about as much healing power to stop the disintegration around us as aspirin does for cancer.

I want to scream...but I feel to do so, would be like screaming underwater...a lot of drama with little result.

I know that the only way to really do anything about such raunchy displays is to start with my own heart.

That is where real change starts.

So I guess the real rant is on me.

I pray that like the angels of Ezekiel, I will have two wings that cover myself, as well as reach out and touch my neighbor and hopefully with humble longing reach up and touch Him as well...