Staring Holes Through Walls

I try to squint, as if that way I can pull a Superman and see through the layer of paint. There’s a two-story tall Jesus mural staring back at me, with the same expression as ever. If I could just get at it with a chisel to scrape off all that superficiality and see what’s really underneath, what the lines of those eyes mean. But it’s just concrete wall underneath.

And there’s a wall in my own head that I keep butting up against, scrambling up just to not quite get to the top, attempting to jump it just to fling myself into its immovable force. Maybe I just need to go around it. But I don’t like it, I’d rather take a sledgehammer to it than go around. Or use my laser vision to bore a hole through it.

The wall’s just all of this, all of me, all of the world, all of us, all the culture, everything that keeps changing Jesus from who he really is. And I love culture, but it’s not as good as Jesus. I want to finally figure Jesus out, like in this awesome song by Molly Jenson. Every time I hear that line in that song I just…try staring holes through walls, try to figure him out. But he’s a very mysterious kinda guy. It’s different to hear about someone second hand through stories about him from his friends than to talk to him yourself. And so it’s mostly clear in those stories that are all written out. But the stories aren’t enough. The painting on the wall isn’t enough. I want to see what’s underneath.

But I don’t know how. Walls have this way of being very solid, and very difficult to tear down. And I don’t like them very much. So I try to stare holes through them. But they have a way of just not caring about me staring holes through them. Perhaps I should equip myself with tools. Like a sledgehammer. Or perhaps a microphone, if the Flobots are right. But the tools don’t seem to work either. Hmph.

I am cavewoman. I hit rock against rock. And then try to stare holes through rock. Hmph.

:)