Doubting Thomas

I listened to the song 'Doubting Thomas' tonight by Nickel Creek. It's powerful and I recommend it to everyone and anyone. I'll go ahead and share the lyrics with you here.

What will be left when I've drawn my last breath
Besides the folks I've met and the folks who've known me
Will I discover a soul-saving love
Or just the dirt above and below me

I'm a doubting Thomas
I took a promise
But I do not feel safe
Oh me of little faith

Sometimes I pray for a slap in the face
Then I beg to be spared cause I'm a coward
If there's a master of death
I bet he's holding his breath
As I show the blind and tell the deaf about his power

I'm a doubting Thomas
I can't keep my promises
Cause I don't know what's safe
Oh me of little faith

Can I be used to help others find truth
When I'm scared I'll find proof that it's a lie
Can I be led down a trail dropping bread crumbs
That prove I'm not ready to die

Please give me time to decipher the signs
Please forgive me for time that I've wasted

I'm a doubting Thomas
I'll take your promise
Though I know nothin's safe
Oh me of little faith

I relate to so much of this song. I think a lot of Christians do. There's so much to it, really. I search for purpose. It's this constant, continual thing I do. And I wonder if I'll ever find it. We get so caught up in definition these days. I've begun to hate the word "technically." I'm not technical. I have no definition. But I do have emotion. I've seen so many technical definitions of purpose. I've found those, but I've yet to find the feeling of purpose. I'm a doubting Thomas, because I question whether I'll ever find it. I hate this campaign of losing emotion and replacing it with fact. My heart is not made up of fact and specification. Rather... feeling, emotion, drive, passion, and pursuit. I think I may have replaced purpose with happiness in my mind. I know if I find purpose, I'll find happiness. Maybe that's true, but it leaves with with feelings of discontent and sorrow in the mean time. That "mean time" seems endless. I have no answer to the question of where to find the feeling of purpose, but I seek it every minute.

I've talked about this before, but I've become so fond of pain. Like in the song, I pray for a slap in the face, but I run away from it because I'm cowardly. Sometimes I question my ability to define what it is I want. I must come to the point where I'm content in the down time. Because I know I'm content when life throws everything at me. For some reason, I find meaning in that. I know there's meaning in this time of nothing, but I'm too selfish to find it. So instead I dream of tomorrow. I'm stuck in this everlasting rut that I'm containing myself in. I refuse to make the choice of seeking God and everything he has, because I'd rather dream until the next day. It all comes back to me. Blaming is easy, but this truth is hard. God, forgive me for this time I've wasted.

Can I be used to help others find truth
When I'm scared I'll find proof that it's a lie
Can I be led down a trail dropping bread crumbs
That prove I'm not ready to die

How can I expect God to use me if I'm looking back the whole time. I'm in this down time, and I pray that God will use me daily, but I'm selective. Selective. That is inexcusable. How can I be used by God to show others what he'll do in their lives, if I'm questioning his plan to use my own life? This undefinable, emotional heart of mine cannot be broken up. I cannot put half of my heart into His plan. It takes all. These questioning bread crumbs must go, because their proof that I don't trust Him. How can I sit and beg for a better life, when I don't trust his method of doing so? I'm a doubting Thomas.

I've lost all optimism. I remember excitement. I can define both for you, but where's the feeling? Maybe these words are better felt. Maybe definitions are anticlimactic. But feelings can be chosen. Am I choosing to live this life of discontent? Say what you will about definition, but I'm beginning to believe that choice is more relevant than previously thought to be. This life is a choice. You can try and define it, but you'll never get through to this human spirit we posses. Humans must experience on their own. They must feel. But they always have the choice.