The Battle Between Man and Spiritual

I write because I’m going through historic times in my life. Daily I awake and face the slit of yellow light with squinted eyes as my mind turns around and around wondering what trials lay beyond the calm of morning.

My legs hit the earth with a clash and clang, the power of thought rides on my thighs, bearing themselves ready to face fire from the enemy. My heart sits enthroned among my amour, methodically riding up and down in the trot of my going, holding its head high. Refined and edified from meditation, it is ready to bear the waves of people’s hypnotism breaking on its back. This is my daily regimen. This is my daily war.

Because I place less emphasis on the legality of smoking cannabis than speeding, because I believe Katy Perry is part of the kingdom and just doesn’t know it yet and because I drink alcohol, I am subject to more than scrutiny. The very convictions of my soul are considered dangerous and doubted, disbelieved and discarded by others. I discard the proverbial box and people get angry. They are more comfortable living under the hypnosis of their rules.

I battle everyday, not just for courage to voice my convictions, but also for the purity and salvation of my mind that I might not be convinced of the people’s way of thinking.

I am alone. I am the six-legged insect skidding across pavement to evade the laser of heat from the magnifying glass. The fire is in front of me, behind me and at every turn. I remain alive, mostly unscathed and inching closer to the safety I see in tall grass. Just a little while longer I must dodge, fight and preach to myself.

They interpret me through themselves: my confidence is their pride; my assurance is their fear; my freedom is their bondage; and my faith is their rules.
I reek of sinful confidence to them and I lust after dangerous deeds to them. I am a predator walking among them — a pod of darkness traveling in hot-pink latex and only I cannot see the darkness within, about to explode. It is only a matter of time before I am overrun by the elements of the world. Tread on old tires will last longer than me.

I am alone. There is no one else, no other soul in my plane of view that shares my vision, my convictions and my heart. My best friend is invisible and I only get alone time with him a few times a day. A few moments a day with him and I refuel in confidence of my convictions and clasp this amour to my white skin, praying for protection from pollution.

I long for the years to pass, my hair growing thin and withered, so I can stand before my crowds and in weeping proclaim, “See! See how I have not strayed from my teacher? See how the elemental things of this world did not triumph over me though I befriended them? See how God is not bound by our impressions of value and our deity stamps on elemental things? See! The darkness cannot overtake the light!”

I long to prove God’s promises to them, and I long for their troubled souls to rest in the assurance of the truth in the faith I proclaim.

I puzzle them. Confuse them. Disorient them. Cause them to doubt. Yet, still the rubber band of traditions and morality squeeze their minds tightly and their doubt turns to anger and concern over the state of my soul. Even light before them is seen as darkness. I am alone in my battle — my brothers and sisters do not know how they inflict wounds upon my soul, forcing me to guard my heart and mind against their rules and teachings.

Colossians 2 says, “See to it that no one takes you captive by philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the world and not according to Christ.” This verse is the blood pumping in my veins. This is the undercurrent of my beliefs, the stream I dip into daily when perceiving judgmental eye squints and glances designed to penetrate a sinner’s soul and convict them toward holiness.

Julia’s Story

My philosophical origin of operation comes from Colossians 2. There is the physical world and the spiritual world, and I have left the physical. I don’t see a traffic jam and see cars chained invisibly by the heavy hands of time — I see nothing. I only live in the spiritual, and therefore there are very few physical elements I encounter that are worthy of extracting my energy.

Any energy put into the physical is less for the spiritual. Although, not all physical is absent of the spiritual, such as service toward others, I believe that causes a spiritual reaction. But most things are purely physical. Let me tell you the story of Julia.

Walking down the center of a concrete sidewalk, the streetlamps methodically pass by in succession, showing no signs of life to the um-teenth passerby such as myself. Below the night sky I hug my textbook against my navy blue, Boston sweatshirt and comfortably breath in the cool, windy air of spring. My eyes tear up. I long to live far from this place.

The scene plays over in my mind: thin Julia enters the dorm room with the stiff air of anger shoved up her ass. Launching her cleats and softball glove into a grounder in front of her bedroom door she exclaims, “Team two beat us.” Her jaw protrudes as she walks briskly toward the couch.

“I just got done pretending to play softball,” she said, pacing the floor.

Julia’s two roommates shake their heads — the stiff air from Julia’s ass transferring to theirs. My eyebrows shoot up; I did not know they were so close.

During this scene I refrain from a wide-eyed viewing perspective, and I choke back an arrogant smirk. My heart slices into two halves and from the center comes ringing, “Are these girls serious?”

In my experience of the universe where life, death, health, sickness, joy, sorrow, riches, poverty, war, peace, family and friends intermingle and strive to align themselves with the earth’s natural rhythm, do Julia and her roommates truly believe an intramural softball game necessitates the stirring up of their real emotions and energies?

Sports incur energy and a competitive nature, tempting coal-hot emotions and attitudes to flare up — but weighed against the perpetual elements within this world should people bite the bait and indulge their energies in a seemingly juvenile matter, such as intramural sports?

I have lived a padded, comfortable and blessed life. My troubles in life originated from within myself, coming from a confused mind left to itself for too long. Despite this I understand most troubles on earth are not so conveniently identifiable and fixable as mine were.

Situations like broken hearts, legalized rape, political tyranny, estranged family members, alcoholism and many, many more examples are complex, exhausting, needy and ongoing. Knowing that, my heart fears being caught up during the sixth inning of the game in a such a way I allow my emotions to break the roof of reason, rising like steam and fire from the words of my mouth, the path of my feet and the works of my hands.

In that self-induced moment I forsake the needy, the hurting and the searching. I display the blindness of pride and the ugliness of arrogance. Through my actions I tell the world, “Intramural softball is more important than your problems.”

I give my energy to an intramural game, leaving less energy for spiritual issues visible inside the eyes of the hungry, the scars of the hurting and the wanderings of the lost — symptoms in our friends and neighbors. I chose intramural sports over my community.

Walking down the center of the concrete sidewalk, I meditate on these things. My eyes tear up and I long to be far from this place.

Spiritual Versus Non-Spiritual

What is physical in your life that you expend energy on when there is no spiritual affect behind it? Is a traffic jam worth boiling over? Is spilled milk worth a riff of anger-charged “G-rated” words? Is being ten-minutes late worth snapping at your roommate or family member as you walk out the door? The catch-22 is often the very circumstances having no spiritual value we exert inappropriate energy on and therefore create negative spiritual affects. Negative affects are negative for two reasons:

First, any energy spent on the non-spiritual is a waste, and weakens you for the spiritual.

Second, seduction to fits of energy expended in frustration, anger or self-promoting words and acts, sow earthly seeds in that mood, always producing equally negative reactions in those around you.

Colossians 2 says, “For in him the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily, and you have been filled in him, who is the head of all rule and authority.” I am blessed by the visual imagery this verse provides. Rather than say, “you have been filled with him,” it says, “in him.” What does it mean to be filled in someone? It is more natural to say you have been filled with someone.

If the latter wording were used it would create in my mind the image of myself standing tall and Jesus pouring into my body and filling me up with himself, much like we pour milk into a glass. My flesh stands tall, unaffected by and unchanged by the filling up of my insides. But with the former wording, “you have been filled in him,” there is no visual image of myself. There is no communication that I am the base for anything or that I even exist apart from Christ.

To say, “you have been filled in him,” is to place Christ at the beginning. Only by seeing him first and diving into his body can we find ourselves. Not even the flesh on my bones — the external, the visually separate from my soul — escapes the spirituality of Christ. Every aspect of us is birthed in him. This is why earlier in the chapter Paul says, “For in him the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily.” If something is full it is whole, so why did Paul use the redundancy of “whole fullness?” He is emphasizing that nothing — nothing — we put our hands to can bring about holiness. It is all spiritual; it is all birthed from Christ and not from our minds. Being holy is not deeds done to attain a status. The whole fullness of deity, every ounce of it, is found in the spiritual, in faith, in Christ. No other way.

Bodies and Spirituality

People living according to their minds exhaust me. What I mean is that I am sick of our God-given intuition and instinct being written off as the flesh and not as a contributor to our spirituality.

People live in constant conflict between their intuitions and bold personalities, and their spirituality.

There is a reason why spirituality is compartmentalized to a far-off place of nonexistence within most people. In evangelical America we see spirituality as a holiness to be sought after — not a way of life integrated into every single day, in every single act. Spirituality is not an outfit to put on over our mind, instinct and intuition; spirituality is the motor through which we operate out of our instinct and intuition.

In operating like this, you will find your spirituality and your intuition are one, not separate. Rather than expend energy trying to tame the intuition, begin melding intuition and spirituality, operating in consistent and fluid motions. This self-conflict between instinct and spirituality is ongoing and walks with people until their graves, because the intuition can never be gotten rid of — it is God given, God wants you to have it. Stop trying to throw it away.

Spirituality is not for the bravado of aura reading or the comfort of those desiring rest from the desert. Nor is spirituality the same as adherence to moral rules and tangible deeds of “do” and “don’t.”

Spirituality is integrated into every element of who we are. Personalities, instincts and intuitions are God-given attributes to be used along with spirituality, not as a separate entity from it.

Such spirituality comes not from ourselves, as Paul said, but is found fully in Christ Jesus.

Therefore, let the amour we wear and the battle we fight be to preserve the spirit of God in us. Our spiritual energy should be devoted to embracing every aspect of who God created us to be, so that we might see his grace for us in full and be a good steward of it, all for the purpose that the attributes of his spirituality exterminates not on ourselves but on the lives of others.