I tap pause.
My wish is its command.
Spotify waits silent.
Quiet beneath my fingertips.
Music lines repeat in my head.
Resonance beats in my chest.
I breathe deep.
A haunting compilation of notes and words put flesh to feelings.
Pluck at the heart of human experience.
This is what great art does.
Bids deep reflection.
I hum the line and nod.
Spotify names the artist/singer/songwriter as 3rd in the world.
How often have I descended in the spiral?
Turned toward the sun to stare.
Felt frozen as sunspots fill my vision. And still I stare.
Were I to turn to the mirror, mirror on the wall, the reflection pulsing back would be obscured by blinding orange and red.
I know what would meet me in the mirror I avoid and she’s never the fairest of them all.
How often do the voices in our heads taunt us with this exact accusation?
Taylor sings it for us all.
While we stare at the sun, avoid the mirror, sit shoulder-hunched, head-in-hands.
We feel all the courage we lack.
We see all the scars and scrapes and scared, no need for a mirror image.
We loop our failures on repeat.
Insecurities silence ideals.
Derision and disdain jeer.
Depression slithers in with sinister slide.
“Nobody wants you.”
“You’re too much.”
“You play games.”
“You’re not enough.”
“You are not worthy of love.”
It all culminates in an effort to sabotage us, terrorize us, hide any hint of recognition of the beauty and truth in us, though it be through a glass darkly.
It continues to push and prod with no reprieve.
I tap play.
Spotify heeds my request.
Notes drift away. Lyrics lilt to an end.
Taylor Swift’s song stops, but the story doesn’t actually end here.
There’s the truth to be told.
The anti-hero in each of us doesn’t actually rule the day.
There’s a Carpenter who comes, not as a hero, but as a Redeemer, an Advocate, the Alpha and Omega.
He takes our crises and our vices.
Won’t leave us to our worn devices.
He pays the price.
Pierced through His side and He is killed.
For me. I’m the problem. It’s me.
It must be excruciating, hanging there, weight of the world to bear.
Choosing every bit of the brunt. Becomes the villain who must pay the price.
Justice requires a reckoning.
Sinless shoulders the sin-stained.
For me. I’m the problem. It’s me.
Blood runs bright red, soaks crossbeams dark.
A vicious, literal act prods and pushes. Pierces.
And the Apostle John writes that immediately blood and water flowed out.
The mocking crowd, the hardened soldiers, the governing ruler, proclaim to Love Himself, You Are Not Wanted Here.
Death declares a victory.
But what they missed is this ~the story and the song aren’t over here either.
Jesus doesn’t leave.
Even death couldn’t cause Him to forsake us.
He rolled back the stone and opened the way.
It’s an incredible story however you view it – fact or fable, miracle or myth.
The unanswerable question on the table. Why?
Why would the “good guy” willingly take on the problem of me?
Why doesn’t He leave….stride out the door, depart with a withering wave of disgust?
Why does He not sit at teatime and agree with everyone and with the voices in my head that scream, “It’s me.
I’m the problem. It’s me.”
Why does He hand out security in trade for my scheming?
Why does He offer peace for the “problem of me?”
Why does He heap up hope and ask to bundle my hopelessness for the rubbish pile?
Why arm me with tranquility and discard my tatters of anxiety?
He tears away the “Everyone Will Betray You” sign I’ve lettered over and over again.
Steps out the door and returns with His original artwork.
The script reads in permanent ink,
“You are one in whom I dwell and I delight. You are chosen. You are seen, known, loved.”
I”ll stare directly at the Son, He’ll always be my mirror.
It’s me. I’m His child. It’s me.
He reflects back truth and light and shows us who He made us to be.
It absolutely is exciting to know He’s always rooting for us and providing His abiding never-ending all-compassing beyond-measure lavish love.
*musings inspired by the song AntiHero by Taylor Swift