Confessions: Conviction

From the depths of my soul, it rose

Sending whispers to my mind

With the great power of a sword,

Driving to my heart’s core,

It laid bare my intentions and desires,

My thoughts and treasures

Never before had I seen such uninvited force…

What is its source? Who wields its power?

Maybe it’s just the atmosphere

Playing jokes with my head…

So I’ll calmly ignore the call

And turn away from the mirror…

………………………………………………

Ironed black slacks and a button-up shirt, while sporting the classic Doc Martins’ or Shetchers’ black dress shoes.

Hair perfected to its position with a combination of gel and hairspray. You can say this is because my mom and dad taught me two different ways of styling hair.

A smile, to defer attention away from me to my parents.

Yes, this is a pastor’s kid getting ready for Sunday morning.

It would be impossible to count the number of sermons, conventions, Sunday School classes, or other church related activities that I have sat through.

You learn to figure out the point of the sermon in the first few minutes just by the name of the sermon and the verse being read.

“Nothing new”

“Heard it before.”

“What haven’t I heard?”

Having grown up in a very Christian family environment, the Bible was never far from conversation.

In fact, a simple family dinner could turn into a theological discussion about church or why so-and-so needs to come to church or how this person is a bad person.

When you spend the first 15 years of your life as a pastor’s kid, you think that somehow you have a head start on this thing called life.

That somehow you are on an A-list of Christians

It is this weird self-righteous thing…that unfortunately, I probably thought at one time.

And maybe, down somewhere deep inside, I still struggle with.

And you may not be a pastor’s kid, but maybe you are there too.

Thinking that you are in the right. Thinking you have the right view. Thinking that you are the one that is keeping this world sane. That so-and-so needs to see through your eyes.

Thinking you know it all.

I still have that thought from time to time.

The thought that I do know better than others

The thought that I have heard it all before

The thought that you can’t teach me anything

I can get so stuck in my ways of thinking, so stubborn with my beliefs and opinions

That it seems like I truly am the center of the world

That God is after my glory

…

You ever really look at yourself in the mirror?

I mean like examine every detail about you

It’s haunting isn’t it?

The third-person perspective

What you thought you looked like in a moment is completely erased by the image you see before you.

Immediately, you start adjusting your hair or your clothes so that you don’t look ridiculous.

It’s almost instantaneous

This thought rising to your head

This conviction.

“Something isn’t right.”

There is this vision you have of the way things are supposed to be, and you seek to make things right.

Try it. I dare you.

Conviction.

Now, imagine that you see all of these things about yourself but do absolutely nothing to fix it. You, in fact, have the thought that something is not right, but are overjoyed just with the fact that you noticed something was wrong. You even praise yourself for having the thought, though you didn’t conjure it up yourself.

…

So there I am, a pastor’s kid.

Church attendee. Leading worship in youth and Sunday morning service.

Doing dramas for church and such.

Sermons and Sunday Schools fly by. Too many to count. I hear the same stories over and over.

But every so often…

A word is spoken that strikes to my heart…

“Something isn’t right…”

“I don’t read my Bible…”

“I talk bad about others…”

“I don’t tell others about Jesus…”

“I don’t feed the hungry…”

“I don’t do all of these things that Jesus said would be signs of being his disciple…”

“Am I really following after him?”

“Something isn’t right…”

“This reflection in the mirror is not the person that I am supposed to be…”

It hits my mind like a load of bricks

And yet, I stood there, seeing my flaws and all, and was impressed with myself that I felt so convicted.

That I had the right feelings.

That I had the right heart towards the things of God.

I turned away from the mirror, and ignored the image I saw.

Never turning back to right the wrongs.

I deceived myself into thinking the mirror would fix it’s own problems and that the image would change over time.

It took 19 years of my life to realize that conviction is not enough.

That the mirror is doing its job.

But I wasn’t doing mine.

Conviction doesn’t save. It only points out the issues.

God says to not only hear his word but do it.

Otherwise, you are like a person who looks square into a mirror and yet ignores the reality that you are in need of serious repair.

Conviction is not the end, but a means to the End.

Stop praising your feelings and start looking in the mirror.

It will point out your need of a Savior. 

Questions: Power or Illusion

“Ta-Dah…(laugh) It’s gone…”

Magic.

I am captivated by magic tricks.

The disappearing of dice, balls, helicopters, humans. The retrieval of a specific card out of its deck. The bullet catch. The ingestion of billiard balls. The quick change.  The walking through walls. The transportation of a coin from a hand to underneath the skin. The pocket thief.

My eyes are glued to the magician’s every move, waiting to see if I can catch a glimpse of his “powers”.

How does he do it?

I would sit for hours, dumb-founded trying to understand these seemingly impossible feats.

“Where did the card go? How did he cut that person in half? Did he really just guess that person’s driver license number? Could this be real?”

This is what I wanted to do with my life. Magic. This must be what true power felt like.

But then…I learned.

Misdirection.

The look over here as I slip this card into my pocket. The switch off of balls into different cups. The mirrors. The curtains. The secrets.

The illusion.

There is something still mesmerizing about magic, except now I’m not looking to be amazed. I’m looking for the secret. The catch. The scam.

It was a letdown, to know that behind this amazing feat, was just fakeness.

The illusion of power

“Is there such thing as real power?”

That was my question. All of these tricks must be based on something real, right? It can’t all be counterfeit.

And maybe that’s what I thought of God growing up.

The Ultimate Magician.

That if I asked him to make this or that appear or disappear, he was at my beck and call to use his mighty powers.

The give me peace right now. The help me remember everything so I will pass this test. The give me the lead part in the school play. The let this song or text bring me comfort and joy. The bring money to me so I don’t have to worry about finances.

I would sit in church, youth service, my bed. Anxiously anticipating these supernatural signs that would bring me peace about his existence and about my life.

I waited, and waited, and waited, and waited.

The letdown came.

Did God really have that power?

Or was it just an illusion?

Was I getting fooled as others made fun of belief in Him?

It seemed like this power wasn’t real.

That everything was, simply put, just an illusion.

Ever been there?

All these questions of how and why and seemingly no answer or response?

That maybe you've been fooled?

Been there. It’s not fun. At all.

But…the truth is…this power… God’s power

It’s not an illusion.

It’s real. The magicians wish they had these powers but they can’t touch it.

You may ask: how do I know that it’s real?

Let me tell you

2012 has been a year for the history books for my family.

No, we aren’t starving in a third world country.

No, I’m not in danger of losing my life on a daily basis.

No, I am not struggling (currently) to pay for bills.

But this has, by far, been the most trying year of my life.

In January, my grandma passed away.

I have had two family members get engaged and begin full time work to try and support their loved ones.

I have dated and broken up.

I have graduated from college, and seen my younger bro graduate from high school and move off to college.

My older bro had kidney stone surgery , twice.

My great grandma passed away last week.

I could go on…

And yet through all the tribulation, something deep inside has kept us all grounded. Our heads above water. A peace which passes all understanding…

Where did that come from?

There is no illusion. There is peace. But how? Why? Where?

His power.

Still think I’m fooled?

I was driving home with my stuff loaded up in my car from college. I was about to embrace being an adult. I had no idea as to where to start, what jobs to apply for, what I should be doing.

It was emotionally draining since I knew that I may never see some of my college friends again. And that’s when it started.

My battery light came on. This car had been through a lot but nothing seemed this severe before. That light could have come at a worse moment. I called my college roommate and asked him what he thought was wrong. In mid conversation, my check engine light comes on and my AC gives out.

I’m in nowhere Oklahoma. What am I supposed to do? He tells me to pull of the road. I call my mom to explain the situation, which she is not too happy to hear. My roommate calls me and tells me to go down one more exit to some shop he found online. So I do it.

I get to the shop and they tell me both my belt lines need to be replaced. And this is where the real magic happened….

The owner of the store, as we are talking about the car, asks me where I was headed (Flower Mound) , what college I went to and I say OU. He asks what I did in college, and ashamed, I say theater. He kinda laughs, which confused me.

I sit down, trying to figure out what has gone wrong with my life. The owner walks out with the bill and, I kid you not, this is what happened:

Owner: “The reason I asked you all that stuff is that I am on a board at a theater in Lewisville (town next to Flower Mound) and we are looking for young people who are interested in directing? Are you interested?”

Me “Yeah!”

Owner: “Do you have a resume?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry I don’t.”

Owner: “ That’s ok.  (pulls out business card and writes on back) Here is who you need to get in touch with and their email. And if you can’t reach them, then here is my personal information. We will work something out.” (Smiles)

Me: (on the verge of tears) “Thank you so much!”

Owner: “And it’s a good thing you graduated from OU because that’s where I graduated too.”

…

Power or illusion?

I never knew about this theater before happening to breakdown in Ardmore, Oklahoma, and pulling up to this mechanic shop.

I have now been employed by this theater, teaching middle school and high school students drama every Monday night. And my pursuit, before ever knowing about this theater or this job, was to be a high school theater teacher.

Just when I thought I was broken, lost, and abandoned, I saw the power. Like 2 Corinthians 4. I am the jar of clay and His power, His Spirit, is the treasure.

I guess it’s not an illusion of power but the power of the illusion.

When I’m weak, You are strong. 

Questions: Limbs to Lose

April 26, 2003 was just a normal day.

Aron Ralston was just a normal guy.

Escaping from the push and shove of his daily life, Aron took a trip to Blue John Canyon.

He was head-over-heels in love with spectacle of the mountains and cherished the thrill of scaling every nook and cranny he could navigate.

Blue John Canyon was a frequent getaway spot for Aron.

Trying to avoid any distractions from the outside world, Aron told no one where he was headed. With his gear packed and heart pumping with excitement, Aron began his hike into the canyon.

8 miles in from his car.

All was normal. The weather. The view. Everything.

One step changed everything.

While descending into a slot canyon, Aron stepped on a boulder, dislodging it. The boulder came slamming down on Aron, pinning his right arm between the boulder and the canyon wall.

Stuck.

With 350 ml of water left and two burritos in his backpack, Aron assumed his chances were grim.

But he didn’t give up.

Using all of the supplies in his backpack, Aron used any method to try and free his arm in whatever shape it was.

He tried to break the boulder. He created a pulley system to try and lift the boulder. For three days, Aron desperately tried to break out.

No success.

Day four: he knew what he had to do. He had to cut his arm off.

All he had was a cheap pocketknife. Though he made a few initial cuts to his arm, Aron realized the tool would not be strong enough to cut through the bone.

So he stopped.

Day five: Aron ran out of water and started drinking his own urine. He had settled into the reality of his death. He began to film his goodbyes to his family on the video camera that he had brought along. He etched his name into the canyon wall, listing his birth date and his predicted death.

He fell asleep, not intending to wake up.

…

Day six: Aron wakes up.

 Aron has an epiphany. He breaks his ulna and radius. With a dull two-inch knife, he performs the amputation, taking almost an hour to do so.

Now, he is free…but stuck in a canyon, 8 miles from his car. And no cell phone

With his one good hand, Aron climbs out of the canyon in which he was stuck in, rappels down a 65-foot sheer wall one handed, and begins to search for help.

Miraculously, a family from the Netherlands is hiking nearby and spots Aron. They provide him with food and water. And then, a helicopter spots Aron and the family from the sky. He is lifted up and taken to a hospital.

I find myself stuck.

Trapped.

Pinned.

I’m fighting desperately to keep my limbs in tact.

“I don’t think that I could live without them,” I tell myself.

But I’m bleeding out.

I’m dehydrated.

What am I to do?

This boulder is in the way. That’s the problem.

I’m not trying hard enough.

Let me do these good deeds, and let me chant a few prayers.

Let me sing a few songs, and let me read from this book.

I don’t want to think about surrendering that which is made me, me.

I don’t want to sacrifice the habit of thinking whatever way I feel like.

I don’t want to sacrifice my freedom to say whatever I am feelin’

I don’t want to sacrifice my lifestyle of comfort and self-pleasure

Give me a new behavior, but not a change of heart

Give me green pastures and the still water, but not the valley of the shadow of death

Give me freedom, but don’t give me Jesus.

…

But as much as I try, this boulder ain’t going nowhere.

I’m stuck.

But don’t get my started about losing these limbs, I would rather die.

…

What are you willing to do in order to survive?

To live?

To find life?

Maybe not it’s a limb to lose, but maybe it’s a habit

Maybe it’s not your physical death but your spiritual death that is looming

…

Are you holding on to things instead of breaking free?

Questions: The Chase

Sitting snuggly on my grandparents’ cozy, burgundy couch, I was unaware of the profound moment that I would soon experience with this neatly packaged gift resting in my lap. It would change my life forever.

Christmas in my family isn’t just a holiday; it is a constant party: a joyous explosion of laughter, storytelling, gift giving, and just plain loving. Intermixed with feasts of food, movie watching, and full-on competitive games, the main event is the giving of gifts. Unashamedly, I must admit, the kids of the family are pumped for this time because they know that they are about to be showered with gifts (whether or not they use or wear the gifts is beside the point.)

There I sat, like any other Christmas, waiting on my turn to open my gift from my aunt and uncle. It’s rectangular shape and lightness gave away its secret identity: a CD. As my brothers finished their thank-yous and hugs, I took to the ordinary routine of finding the open seal in the wrapping paper and tearing it to shreds.

And there it sat. Just a normal CD to my eyes then. I gazed at it wondering what or even who it was.

“I heard they are a really good band.” My aunt reassured me, trying to sell me on her gift.

“O yeah, I think they sing that song, what’s it called… Gone. Do you know it?” My uncle and cousin asked me.

I gave the I-don’t-know-what-you-are-talking-about-but-I’ll-just-smile-and-say-thank-you-anyways face.

“I think you’ll like them.” My brother threw in his two cents.

Switchfoot. Hmmmmm… everyone seems to be fascinated and interested by these longhaired rockers, so maybe I’ll give them a try.

And that’s where it all began.

I put the CD into the computer, turned the volume up just enough so I could hear the music but not wake everybody else in the house…and the rest is history.

Before you knew it, I was hitting Meant to Live, This Is Your Life, Dare You To Move, and Gone on repeat, almost hypnotically memorizing every single lyric to these songs. I even looked up the song lyrics online so I could know exactly what they were and correct anybody who tried to sing anything that wasn’t the right song lyrics.

Next thing you know I am at Six Flags in Arlington, Texas with Jon Foreman, the lead singer, standing inches from me, on my row, on the chair of the dad who brought me to the concert singing my all-time favorite song Dare You To Move. I was so wrapped up in bewilderment and awe in the moment that I completely forgot to reach out my hand and give him a hi five or anything (this would soon come to haunt in me, because in every proceeding concert I have been to, I have come inches to meeting Jon and have always fallen short.).

And that’s when I knew he had become my role model: Jon Foreman.

There was something so plain cool and awe inspiring about this guy as an artist and just a human being that had me captivated. He could pen words that not only sounded so rock and roll, but also struck a chord with my soul. It was like he knew my life and my situations and wrote songs about them, without even knowing me.

Needless to say, it was an understatement to call me a fan. I was a fanatic. I bought their proceeding albums the first day they were released. I began spreading the news about them to everyone I knew, friends, family, and foes alike. I was unashamed of my love for this band and Jon Foreman.

And you think it would stop there, but it didn’t. I dove head first into this love. I started frequenting their fansite, watching youtube clips of their concerts and interviews with radio stations (on repeat), and read any information I could get my hands on about them.

And what I found was something that even surprised me.

These guys were genuinely caring and good guys; they wanted the best for others. They would raise money for the homeless kids of San Diego, they had a can food drive on one of their tours to help out with charity, they collected backpacks on another one of their tours to give away to homeless children. These guys were not just rock-stars onstage, but they were also rock-stars offstage.

And what I found that surprised me is not their lifestyle, but my response. I wanted to be like them. Of course, everyone would love to be famous and in a band, but that’s not really what I’m talking about. I mean I wanted to be like them in the way that I wanted to care for kids like that and be humble and give away things to less fortunate. That’s what I wanted for my life. And I knew that it was the right thing. I knew that this was why that gift was given to me. That I would chase after what they are chasing after.

There never was a disconnect for me.

You see, in the beginning, back to that night at Christmas, I didn’t feel obligated to give this band a listen. I wasn’t afraid that my aunt and uncle would be disappointed in me if I didn’t use their gift, because, frankly, I had done that with numerous of gifts I had been given in the past.

I was drawn out of fascination. And that fascination turned into genuine love. And that love turned into a passion. And passion to obsession. And obsession to a purpose.

No disconnect.

And when I read the story of the disciples being called by Jesus, that’s what I see there.

A fascination. “Who is this guy? I guess I’ll see what he is about.”

And it turned into a love, then passion, then obsession.

And just when they thought their obsession was in vain because of his crucifixion, he was resurrected.

And it turned into a purpose. And that purpose drove a small group of people who fell in love with this man called Jesus to spread word that He was alive and that he can change people’s lives forever, just like he said.

You see, it wasn’t about understanding the regulations or following some five step plan to reach freedom, but it was realizing what they had witnessed, what they had been given as a gift. And then, in response to this experience, sharing this seemingly unbelievable news with anybody with an ear to listen.

And that purpose and that news spread like fire until it reached you and I here today, just like news of Switchfoot reached me on that burgundy couch. We were born into this world unaware of the events that had taken place prior to our existence, but that no longer is the case. The gift has reached you and I.

This thing we find ourselves caught up in is not a religion but a reality.

His actual resurrection caused a commotion two millenniums ago, and we are still feeling the rumblings of that news today.

It’s not about pursuing principles but a person.

A real, live person. Jesus

It’s about chasing after him, wanting to know more, wanting to be like him out of love, not out of fear of the consequences.

The question is: do you really want to become like him?

Do you see him as someone you aspire to be?

Are you even fascinated with getting to know him?

Are you willing to take a leap of faith and find the purpose you were created for?

Questions: The Rich Man

And behold, a man came up to him, saying, “Teacher, what good deed must I do to have eternal life?” And he said to him, “Why do you ask me about what is good? There is only one who is good. If you would enter life, keep the commandments.” He said to him, “Which ones?” And Jesus said, “You shall not murder, You shall not commit adultery, You shall not steal, You shall not bear false witness, Honor your father and mother, and, You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” The young man said to him, “All these I have kept. What do I still lack?” Jesus said to him, “If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.” When the young man heard this, he went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions.

And Jesus said to his disciples, “Truly, I say to you, only with difficulty will a rich person enter the kingdom of heaven. Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.” When the disciples heard this, they were greatly astonished, saying, “Who then can be saved?”…

From the start of kindergarten, to graduating college

From ignorance and innocence to imitating knowledge

It’s heralded from billboards and tvs and the world wide Net

From parents to child from teacher to student

“This is life’s goal: The American Dream”

It comes in all shapes, colors, packaging and sizes

The notion never questioned as its popularity rises

Get a good education

Get a husband or a wife

Get a house

Work hard

Retire… that’s the end of life…

Right?

Am I willing to give up this stuff? Honestly?

I rolled out of college in May with a degree in my hand, ready to hustle the streets, in search of a job.  After job-hopping for an entire summer, the thought occurred to me: Is this it? Is this what I was meant to do for a lifetime? To increase my pay? To find a wife? To settle down? To work? To have kids? To retire?

For most of my life, my prayers had been utilized to see the American Dream accomplished in my life:

“God, please help my family with finances.”

(God please give us money to help us to continue to living in this comfortable lifestyle with tvs, cellphones, and a nice house because I don’t want to be uneasy.)

“God, please bring a girl into my life.”

(God bring a the best looking girl into my life that fits with my personality exactly so I don’t have to love her inspite of her weaknesses.)

“God, please give me a job that will pay for the bills.”

(God please give me a job that I absolutely love and feel fulfilled in and that will offer all these benefits to make me feel comfortable in life.)

I know I have always thought wealth, riches and comfort as a blessing from God. But now I wonder: why did I ever think that? For I was never promised any of those things as a follower of God.

In fact, Jesus said I would be persecuted.

I would be made fun of.

That I might be disowned.

That I might be homeless.

That I might be killed.

It seems that’s what happened with Peter, Paul, John the Baptist, Stephen,

And even Jesus.

So why am I searching after security and treasure?

And that’s when I realized that I was the rich young ruler.

That I was in search of comfort and not really the truth.

That what I wasn’t really losing this life in order to gain another

But was loving the treasures here on earth, the American Dream

Truth was, I had neglected my spiritual life

I followed the rules

Yeah, I screwed up every now and then but who doesn’t, right?

That’s just what you do as a Christian, right?

My cup was clean on the outside.

Just when I thought I had this Christianity thing down, a kink was thrown into the mix

God opened up my eyes to see where my heart could be found

And as Jesus said, “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

It wasn’t up in heaven, where neither moth nor rust can destroy

But down here on earth, stuck in the dirtiness of this Dream

Maybe you are like me, with money and comfort and things

Hear it from Jesus: we are at a disadvantage

He was speaking to us when he said “You can’t serve both God and money.”

Maybe you are like me and uneasy about what he asks

To count everything as a loss compared to knowing him

To take up our crosses and go follow him

Let’s stop thinking that we are superior with our riches and our stuff

Let’s stop looking towards comfort for it has turned into an idol

Let’s stop looking to money for security and start looking to Jesus for redemption and salvation.

Are you willing to give this all up in order to follow Jesus? Honestly?

Look at your heart.

Ask yourself the question: What do I really want?

Don’t pretend. Don’t say what you think is right.

Say what is in your heart.

Then…

Confess. Genuinely. Daily

Repent. Genuinely. Daily

For They Know Not What They Do

“Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

Upon a cross, Jesus said these words as he looked out over his executioners

At those who mocked his existence

At those who condemned his teachings

There he hung dying at their hands, and yet there he pleaded for their forgiveness of their hands and their lands

Who does that?

Who prays for his enemy?

Who turns the other cheek?

Who dies that they may live?

He must be crazy.

Or… maybe he was the one that knew the truth.

The one that truly knew love.

The one that understood the cost of love.

The one that knew something that his accusers didn’t.

That the very thing they thought was right was really wrong

That the very thing that they thought would destroy a movement started one instead

And as he sits enthroned in heaven, I wonder…

How many times he continues to pray that prayer to God about us…

“Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

In an age where opinions and words run rampant

Where political correctness is valued over moral rightness

Where which side you’re on is more important than who you are following

Where a statement can be your demise or a picture can ruin a life

What have we become?

Where the individual is held supreme over community

Where pleasure is more diligently sought than peace and purity

Where love has more to do with lust than sacrifice

What have we become?

From the moment sin entered our existence, we have been walking blind, unaware of the pain we place on ourselves. This corruption of the created order has steadily and exponentially progressed to this very moment.

Today we see division over restaurants, foods and politicians. We see strife over money, websites and statuses. We see hatred over cultures, skin color and religion.

We are provoked to take sides and to demonize others. We are pressured to rightfully fight for our independence. We are persuaded that radical protests is love and passivity is tolerance.

I’m not a political activist nor do I aspire to be one. But can we admit that our actions are messed up? Instead of turning the cheek, we throw our fists. Instead of praying for our enemies, we beat down and back stab.

What happened to those that interceded and sacrificed for their neighbor?

What happened to those that gave up individuality for the sake of the community?

What happened to those that believed in Jeremiah 29 1 through 10 , not just verse 11?

The more diligently we seek independence, the more we divide.

The more we choose sides, the less we realize:

No one is righteous before God.

Not one.

We all are sinners.

We all stand on the same side.

We all are in need of forgiveness, salvation, and grace.

Let’s look to his example.

Let’s stand in the gap.

Let’s turn the other cheek.

Let’s stop throwing stones.

Let’s seek out His and His glory alone.

The Fight

Let me set the scene

A crowd huddled as the struggle ensued

Anticipating the moment to cheer or jeer as the fighters move

What seemed so promising and so fascinating, turned out to be nothing more than this:

Blood and broken bones, shattered glass and scuffed up shoes

In this corner, a body draped drearily on the concrete floor

In this corner, the victor glaring at his opponents demise

The victor looks to the crowd, awaiting his applause

But is met with disinterest and disapproving eyes

While the opponent gathers up his body off the ground and the crowd disperses

The fighters’ eyes meet and the same thought enters both their minds

Maybe you’re the crowd

Just drifting by, stopping at whatever catches your eye

No real investment in others but just there to watch

And though detached from the situation, you feel superior

Casting your judgment from the sidelines

And when the hype has died and the outcome decided

You throw in your two cents, and buy your tickets for the next show

Maybe you’re the opponent

Pretending to be bigger than you are

Muscling your way into situations that will leave you bruised and broken

And though you knew the outcome before you threw a punch

You stepped in the ring anyways and got leveled in the gut

Now, you’re making excuses, claiming the victor’s luck and foul play

And though everyone else can see your blindness

Tomorrow, again, you will step into the fight

Maybe you’re the victor

Enthroning yourself too highly than you should

And when an opportunity to flex your strength arrives

Too quickly you chase it to claim your “kingship” as a prize

No mercy is considered in delivering blow after blow

Compassion is a weakness that only cowards show

And when it’s all said and done, you turn to bow and accept praise

But you’re letdown to find your royalty is nothing but a dream

Ask yourself this

Was it worth it?

To stand by

To endanger yourself

To weaken another

See, nowadays, we step into rings that we have no business entering

Whether it’s greed, whether it’s lust, whether it’s anger, whether it’s drugs

We even idly watch others step into these rings and call it entertainment

Or rather let them step into these fights and call it love and respect

And as the punches are delivered, everyone knows the outcome, it’s always the same

It’s always anticlimactic and never lives up to the hype

Rather, it leaves bruises, wounds, blood, even corpses

And brings everyone back to the question: Was it really worth it?

So if you’re left standing in the ring, take a good look around you, you are standing alone

And if you are lying in the ring, get up and go home

If you are a spectator sitting in the crowd, get your buddies out of the fight

It’s time to enter into these rings : faith, hope, love

It’s time to start fighting the good fight

Not just any fight