The Other Foot

I’m listening to a bit of Switchfoot these days. Switchfoot always puts me into a strange sort of hopeful melancholy.

Were we not meant to live for so much more? Do we want more than this world has to offer? Do mice and men have second tries? Do we want more than the wars of our fathers? Does every breath inside really scream for second life?

Do we all wake up every once in a while wondering what it’s all worth? Wondering what point there is to doing whatever it is we do? Wondering how we’re managing to spend most of our time on things that…don’t really matter much?

I preached this weekend, and I guess that contributes to the melancholy. I’m always melancholy after preaching. I preached about cataclysm. I’d love a cataclysm. Because I do want so much more. I want so much more than this world has to offer. This world is bunk. Crap. What’s the use? What’s the use of it all if there’s nothing behind it to give it value?

But whining about it does no good, right? I want more than the world will give me, so I guess I’d better get up off my ass and go get more. Jesus calls out to me, daring me to follow him. Daring me to laugh in the world’s face as it tries to sell me its trinkets. Do I dare? Do I dare?

I’d like to dare. I wonder if we even know how, though.