For a long time now, I've been trying to be content.
But I guess all that time I wasn't sure what that meant.
Like, being content meant that I had to be smiling all the time.
Like being content meant I had to say everything just right.
Like being content meant being happy, being numb, being saintly.
But that just isn't me.
I'm a saint, I mean, that's what Jesus said, I guess.
But I don't have a peaceful mind when I lay down my head.
My thoughts go a million miles an hour in any direction but rest.
And those never ceasing thoughts, well, they tug at my flesh.
They water all my worries until they start to sprout
They call every last one of my mistakes out like fouls
They flash images from my past to the inside of my eyelids,
and if that won't work, they just switch tactics until they find one that sticks.
"Who's gonna love you when they know where you've been?"
and just like that, my eyes are open again.
I lay face-up and my heart pounds in my chest,
and I think "There's no way I could ever be content."
Because being content means to be alright, right?
And how can I ever be alright?
I just wanna dig a hole and shove all of me inside
cover it up and forget it.
Just forget and be content.
Because being content means to forget right?
It's ignoring the fact that there was ever a fight.
That just seems insane to me!
How could I ever forget suffering?
Maybe that's not what I need,
Maybe its not about everything being right,
Maybe it's seeing there's a tree after the death of the seed.
For a long time now, I've been learning about being content.
Now I'm reaching a time when I'll learn what Jesus meant.
He said "it is finished" and put down his head,
and I think in that moment, he was content.
He swallowed every drop of suffering
but he did it for beautiful things only he knew,
He suffered for the sake of a glory that is all surpassing.
And he asks nothing more of me than to suffer through
and find contentedness in his beauty, and in the things he has for me to do.