A Whirlwind of Compressed Convictions

God. God is such large concept, a vast complex being, a spiritual entity that follows every living creature on this earth. Most of humanity has identified themselves as humble servers of God, I included. Within all His righteousness, He will show mercy upon His reunion with our souls in the kingdom plane not visible to our current and extremely limited physical human flesh. According to us, He blesses us every single day. He blesses our bright, transparent, drinkable crystalline water. Blesses our four walled sanctuaries every night and allows us to see the gleaming amber light that stubbornly scintillates through our window every summer morning. He situates the chirping pigeons upon our windowsills and allows our eyes to part another day. He satisfies our undying compartmentalized hunger, with yet another loaf of bread, another spoonful of warm home cooked rice. He incessantly provides at His very leisure. Provides. Provides. Provides. Then, when our large beaming fireball lies to rest upon the horizon, us, the worshipers, thank Him once again for blessing us yet another day.

Still, I will not forget the day a bullet burst through our already smothered lengthy New York apartment. My mother had mentioned in her native tongue late that night and a bit after the fact, “Look, there is a God and he is watching over this house and our family.” I could not help but question, what did we do that others did not which allowed us the privilege of being blessed? Just last week, a child witnessed a grotesque murder in the back of a car. She will have to outlive and surpass the trauma of becoming a witness to that for the rest of her young and tainted life. Why, God, was she not blessed that day? Was she blessed in an alternative cruel and ghastly sort of way? You see, now she has been exposed to a breadth of adulthood. Drifting among the sea of life, her destiny will be fated upon the true spectacle of human interaction.  You, God, have presented her with a colossal crossroads that I and many others, have not or will not experience. The purity of the closest thing to sainthood was stolen at the pang of a distressed firearm. An ivory angel sown into darkness by the blanket of the human race. Will she thank God, for another breath of our tarnished dense air or will she disgrace him and all humanity for the reality that makes being, authentic?

Us worshipers, believers of a celestial greatness, appease ourselves with our abundance of blessings. By mentioning that we are blessed are we not impetuously stating that we are more laudable of receiving greater blessings than others? That God is placing a mighty and divine eye over us more than He does our neighbors? In our hollowed out quest into ultimate egotistic fulfillment, we have engorged what is supposed to be a mighty being into our humanistic ways of perception. Does that not, in a way, defy His very raison d’être? Shall you not, let Him exist in His mystics and mysteries sans the gradual misinterpretation that He places our needs above that of thy friends’? Though unequivocally persuaded by His existence (and many will criticize me for retaining faith), there is no reason for I, to think myself more worthy of a blessing than that of the same mass of flesh next to me who retains the same. We are a large mass of bodies with limitations predicting the thoughts, actions, and reasons of the light that is our deity. We have secluded and deduced the needs of others because our most supreme has gratified our own “omniscient” hearts. Involuntarily, yet ever so truthfully, contributing to the very mounting demise of humane empathy.


One thought on “A Whirlwind of Compressed Convictions

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s