On Purposes, Special or Otherwise.

I always thought that when I got older I'd have things figured out. A common idea, I'd wager. But now that I'm older, I feel I'm no closer to figuring anything out. If anything, I'm farther away. Or maybe there's just more things to figure out. Either way, I'm fairly well screwed in the game of Life.

Most folks figure out a decent way to make their lives work, then fumble around trying to keep everything together. Humbling to know and admit. My problem is that I became so myopic and centered on one aspect of myself that I never learned how to juggle other things. I've been so obsessed with music that I've neglected to provide good things for myself via a good job or strong friends and family. While my friends were becoming teachers and pastors and engineers, while they were dealing with the world and the trials and tribulations that come of it, while they were having successful relationships and careers,  I became a child with control issues who knew little to nothing of himself or the world outside of music and musicians.

I became this way because I haven't dealt with some pain and regrets in my past. Instead of coping and working out issues I just ran to music as an escape. In the world of music, I'm in control. I know what I'm doing, I can put things together, I can cope with anything that's thrown at me. Of course, this has left me with a string of crappy jobs and unhealthy relationships. I have a hard time expressing what I want for myself and from others, mostly because I have no idea what I want for myself or from others. Trust me, trying to feel satisfied in a relationship is damned near impossible when you've no idea what satisfies you.

But as the great Bill Cosby once said, that's not what I came here to talk about.
After church service today, a lady approached me. "I have a word for you. God gave me a word for you."
I don't take compliments well and the idea of God having a specific word for me is a high compliment indeed, so I just gritted my teeth, bared my false humility, and asked her what it was.
"You've spent so long chasing the music, and you've become very good at it, and God has blessed you, but you haven't spent enough time chasing Him."
Oh no, I've been found out! Run!!
She said a few more things, about "being moved by the music" and "there's a revolution in Worship coming, and you're going to be a part of it."

The random lady was right about me. Maybe not about the "revolution in Worship"(I'll talk about that later), but she was on point about me chasing music. And that's what I've been dealing with for the last few months. Not necessarily putting the music away, but finding the right place and time for it. A place and time that allows me to actually deal with life and pain and my past in a healthy way.

Part of that is my church life. I attend a good church with good people and a good pastor. But I don't feel connected to the church, and I don't feel yoked to the pastor. I feel like a musician. I feel like I'm only valued because I serve onstage consistently and have done so for the past few years. But I feel like I'm incomplete. I've only just recently realised that if I weren't playing at the church, I likely wouldn't attend. (In truth, when I'm not playing, I don't attend.)
The point of this revelation is that I need a place where I attend, regardless of my service onstage. In addition, I'd like it to be a church where there's no real chance of me serving on stage any time soon. I need to go because I want to go.

Of course, this is the juxtaposition, the hypocrisy of it all: I can really only receive value and acceptance if I'm valued for my playing. I've boxed myself in, if you will. And that's why I picked up the previously mentioned false humility.

Oh, to learn to be a real and complete human being! It sucks. It's taking everything I've known and loved and focused myself on and putting it aside, not away, but aside so I can address the rest of my metaphorical room.
I'm tired of being incomplete. It's lonely and it makes me feel crazy, like I'm constantly going insane, clinging to my last little shred of sanity, of humanity, of connectedness to the rest of the world, to the people around me. I've been trying to fumble around and keep things together without knowing where I'm going or what I'm keeping together.
Plus, this metaphorical crap I carry around isn't healthy for me. It infects my view of myself, it perverts my goals and desires, and separates me from the people I care about.
And that's the point, I think. We're all in this together as human beings, defined by who we are, not what we do. We all have pasts to get over, struggles to share, and dice to roll.
God doesn't save a plumber, or a teacher, or a designer; He saves men and women. It's high time I learned to be a man, a human being.