Stuck is the infant who wakes up alone. Who looks around for a way out. Willing movement that seems to be limited. As the door remains closed. With no one in sight.
Stuck is relative to seasons and bursts. Appearing to loosen his grip at times. Carving a pathway to new dimensions. Lifting the spirit of a downcast soul. But then he mysteriously clamps down. Threatening to hold a strangle on the pilgrim. In a moment. Without two minutes to adjust. Or even a second to embrace for impact.
Stuck is between the rock and the hard place. But also the abused and his perpetrator. The unemployed and her job-skill training. The refugee and his native language.
Relationships are a favorite landing spot for stuck. As he settles into both parties. And the haunting ground between the two. Propagating a cycle of violence and desperate combat. Giving power to notions of despair. And helplessness. And a sense that deliverance is beyond reach.
Stuck weighs down the ordinary in life. Adding minutes to the day. And magnifying whatever nuisance emerges. He dramatizes the slightest inconvenience. Turning it into a life-jarring moment.
Stuck may not be seen. The sun that loiters on the other side of earth. Surely there. But perhaps known only to his proxies. Stuck may not be spoken. But alas, he lingers within. Longing to take the form of a scream. Or a simple cry for help.
Despite his influence, stuck was not in the created order. So his rise in whatever ranks is suspect to fall. Sometimes an individual is able to confront him. But in most cases he demands the efforts from several. Amen.
For more musings, visit www.confessionalmusings.weebly.com
Stuck is relative to seasons and bursts. Appearing to loosen his grip at times. Carving a pathway to new dimensions. Lifting the spirit of a downcast soul. But then he mysteriously clamps down. Threatening to hold a strangle on the pilgrim. In a moment. Without two minutes to adjust. Or even a second to embrace for impact.
Stuck is between the rock and the hard place. But also the abused and his perpetrator. The unemployed and her job-skill training. The refugee and his native language.
Relationships are a favorite landing spot for stuck. As he settles into both parties. And the haunting ground between the two. Propagating a cycle of violence and desperate combat. Giving power to notions of despair. And helplessness. And a sense that deliverance is beyond reach.
Stuck weighs down the ordinary in life. Adding minutes to the day. And magnifying whatever nuisance emerges. He dramatizes the slightest inconvenience. Turning it into a life-jarring moment.
Stuck may not be seen. The sun that loiters on the other side of earth. Surely there. But perhaps known only to his proxies. Stuck may not be spoken. But alas, he lingers within. Longing to take the form of a scream. Or a simple cry for help.
Despite his influence, stuck was not in the created order. So his rise in whatever ranks is suspect to fall. Sometimes an individual is able to confront him. But in most cases he demands the efforts from several. Amen.
For more musings, visit www.confessionalmusings.weebly.com