The Preacher’s Sacrilege

Dear Lord, or deity that is out there… if You are…
I’m not sure these days.

I offer an obligatory thanks to You, for creating me.
For shaping me in Your image.
I know that I will never have prayers answered,
Unless I thank You.
Such I have been told by the church community’s rhetoric.
And so I do, I thank You with compulsion.

But my true priority…

Allow me to speak the blasphemies within my heart.
They are disjunct and piecemeal,
Yet such is how my mind flits, from
Anxiety to Anxiety…

Are You not the great comforter?

***

Repenting for my sins…I once wished to do so. A sense of guilt then racked my senses, and I feared the very worst. As such Hell promises.

But when I neglected to atone, and immersed myself in fornicating…the Flesh, as You say…my excitement for deviance soon curdled into jaded sentiment. But not Recoil and Horror, as You would prefer. Simply boredom.

This nonspiritual mindset of boredom ended my sin more effectively than the fear of You. In the past, I was filled with fear of You, yet could never stop. But when I abandoned You, I did. And now, I perceive Hell as a place of merely cool, benign flames. For it was the absence of faith which allowed me to end my fornicating ways.

It was not You who corrected me. It was boredom.

I long for Heaven, yet I fear that Heaven would be a place too simple to accommodate me and my curiosities. I was curious of the Flesh, and so I pursued it. When I had my fill, I left.

I fear now, that I have even had my fill of Your Word, the Bible. For it provides answers for all life’s ills, and shepherds we the flock to safety. Yet I’ve found great joy in wandering through the dark, discovering my own answers. I’ve learned that those who seek are never lost, because curiosity is a light unto itself.

Should You, God, take credit for that light? Or may I take credit for it myself?

No longer do I wish to preach Your word at the church, but rather I want to paint. To create. While so many find divinity in the structure of Your worship, I now find it in Art. The endeavor to apply its aesthetic principles wherever I may roam. To pursue that which is good and beautiful, and to transform that which is not into such. I must adopt some discipline within myself and practice it.

You Yourself created man for Your pleasure. May I not also indulge in some sort of creativity, living in Your image? Your greatest joy is mankind, Your creation. I want a similar joy also.

Strike me if I speak Evil.

***

I am unsure if You, God, are outside of myself,
Or rather within Me.
Perhaps you are me.

Who indeed are you?
Are you me?

[A wordless Amen]

neesas1

Neesa Suncheuri works as a mental health peer specialist at a housing agency in Queens, New York.  She is the founder of a Facebook discussion group for peer specialists and other recovery enthusiasts, entitled “What is Wellness?  A Mental Health Discussion Group.”  Much of her creative inspiration is rooted in her now-tamed schizophrenia.  She writes poetry and fiction, and maintains a blog called Unlearning Schizophrenia.  She is also a singer/songwriter, and an enthusiast for the German language and culture.  Follow her on Twitter at @neesasuncheuri.

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2 thoughts on “The Preacher’s Sacrilege”

  1. Neesa, this is beautiful and touching. I wonder, sometimes, whether, if there be such a one as God, are we His (Hers? It’s? Their?) creations, or the very eyes, ears, taste buds, noses, and skin, the very senses and embodiment of That. Some mystics would have it so. I rather like the idea of a curious divinity seeking through us to know itself, and through our art to discover beauty.

    Like

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