My work schedule resulted in some disorientation upon waking this morning. Kept thinking it was Saturday, since I knew it was a day off, but I haven't had one since last Tuesday.
In the replacement of the boiler in my building, they've installed a huge red button across the hall from my apartment. It's there for emergencies, to shut down the boiler in case there's a problem and they can't get past the steel door to the boiler room.
I need one of these buttons.
There's steam building inside me. As I told a dear friend, I'm itching for a fight. I'm not sure if I am most resentful of others' thoughtlessness, their neediness, or their incompetence. Sometimes I find myself looking for an acceptable target, knowing how terribly unfair and downright evil my rage is, how horribly wrong it would be to unleash it unjustly. These are not qualities of a Spirit-filled life, not the hallmarks of a heart surrendered to God. There should be no room for my contempt.
But as I think, I realize there's a disclaimer in all this. Right or wrong, my anger is mostly directed toward those I believe can know better, can do better. My frustration isn't with thoughtlessness, neediness, or incompetence; it is with those who choose thoughtlessness, neediness, or incompetence. They storm like bulls amid the china of others' lives. They move in the universe like wayward stars, trying to pull us into orbit or to send us hurtling into the void. But I have had enough.
On a larger scale, the world seems overrun by morons, giving no thought to their words or actions. They are all too loud and senseless, makers of noise. Too many are also puffed up in self-importance; too many others wander obliviously in self-involvement. There's a difference between censorship and restraint— in a rush to exercise the "right" to "express" every urge and whim, they prattle on and on, taking no responsibility for the bandwith of attention and energy they relentlessly consume. I end each day covered in the intellectual and emotional vomit of others. Opinion and voice have become idols, or at the very least poor substitutes for wisdom and humility. When I'm tired of games, I simply refuse to play.
The death of truth in our time has cost us dearly. Should be no surprise— when the Truth came as a Man, we crucified Him. Thank God that the very act which should have sealed us all in Hell was instead His way of opening the gates of Heaven.