Ace In the Hole

Some days, all I have is Jesus.

Seriously. Sometimes, that’s all I have to get me through a day. The only thing that keeps me from blowing a gasket. My faith in a risen Lord and Messiah, my savior Jesus Christ, along with the knowledge that through becoming born again my soul is secure and that God is backing me—that is sometimes that only thing that make me able to keep going.

A lot of people like to pick on people for using Christianity as a crutch. OK. So what’s wrong with a crutch? If your leg is seriously sprained or broken, how the hell else are you going to get around?

So Christianity, or more specifically God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit, are sometimes my crutch. Or the safety net under that high-wire I’m trying to walk. Or the flotation device that my seat becomes should my plane have to make a landing on water.

I won’t make any damn apologies for that. It’s a fool who doesn’t use his or her support system when things get rough. Right now, I don’t have much of a support system, and things are pretty crappy. So I’m calling on my spiritual lifelines.

That doesn’t make me weak. It means I have some common sense. Because truth be told, we all are weak at times. Hurt. Helpless. Struggling.

And I’m telling you that it’s God that grants me the strength sometimes—that little extra boost I don’t have in my anymore and I know I don’t have—to have gotten through some stuff, and to continue to get through, that other people have done things like put bullets in their head to solve. People in my extended circle who, by the way, didn’t lean on God. Ever.

Crutch? Sometimes.

I prefer to think of God as my ace in the hole.

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Burning Mad

I get angry. Not all the time. But often enough to make me unhappy about it. And more often these days than I’d like, though I guess I shouldn’t be surprised with all the stress going on in my life at the moment.

I don’t know whether to worry about this.

I’ve never hit my wife. I don’t get into brawls. I’ve only rarely destroyed items in my house (and the last time I did was several years ago when my mom called and told me her cancer had returned). I’ve never put my fist through a wall, door or window (though I have hit a few doors in my time). I know how to keep my Id in check, mostly.

But I have been known to swear, scream and ruthelessly pummel or twist objects that don’t break. I have a stack of old CD-ROMs I don’t need so that I can snap one in half when I need to.

I’m not worried that I’ll lose control. But I quite frankly don’t like being angry. I don’t like that there are things in my life that can quickly push me to anger (from Windows Vista to client work to family members). Anger makes my muscles bunch up and hurt. Anger make me weary with the effort to restrain it or expend it. Anger wastes my time.

I know in my heart that when these times arise, I should give my anger over to God. I should pray.

But at the same time, there are frequently times that I think, “Damn it, I earned this anger! I’m right to be pissed. Why do I have to give it up and be nice?”

As one can imagine, this causes some stress, being pulled in two different directions like that. I feel guilty or weak or lazy because I feel the anger. But at the same time, to be forced to let go of it sometimes makes me feel like I’m surrendering a righteous cause or giving in for expediency.

If you’re waiting for me to provide an answer for myself, don’t hold your breath. If you are thinking I’ll have some pithy response or answer to this problem for myself or for anyone who feels like I do sometimes, you’ll be disappointed.

I don’t even have a Bible passage to throw out right now to inspire anyone or illuminate that problem by peeking at it through God’s eyes.

No, I’m just ranting right now. And, I suppose, wondering if I’m alone in this (which I doubt) or whether anyone else has a pithy bit of advice or a winning strategy. If so, let me know. As always, the comment area is open 24/7, and there are no lines or cover charges.