There was this random song title that popped in my head this morning: “The Blessing of Being Bloodless.” It’s a song from a real album that posed itself as a soundtrack for a movie that was not real.
I’ve thought of 100 other things to write about today, but the words, “The Blessing of Being Bloodless” keeps running through my head.
Perhaps because sometimes the ability to feel–and therefore be hurt–can seem like a curse sometimes. Sometimes it’s easier to just not feel. Sometimes it’s easier to not care, to not put yourself out there for people to (intentionally or not) cut open.
Here are some lyrics from the song:
A vision growing in my mind
A dream, I almost can’t imagine it
A choice that’s almost making me
Like love, pursuing me
It’s almost making me
Take a listen.
I think to have a vision is to have a burden. To see something as it could be–as it should be–is to invite upon yourself suffering. Nothing worth pursuing is as simple as pressing a button or pulling a lever. It takes work. And failure. And blood.
I certainly have those gnawing, unyielding burdens. Burdens to build family out of unrelated folks. Burdens to see a community of faith come alive to the beautiful messiness of doing life together. Burdens to see broken relationships restored, for people to say what they’re thinking rather than to fade away, for all of us to enter a new sense of awe and wonder and hunger for the Holy Spirit.
The trap within these burdens–and yours, too–is that we expect to produce results. If we’re putting ourselves out there to see an ideal come to life, we want to see progress. The truth, though, is that we’re never guaranteed that. We’re merely invited to enter into fellowship with our Creator and let Him work out the results.
That can be really, really hard to do. And thus, the perceived blessing of being bloodless.
It sucks to care. It sucks even more to care and not be able to ensure that your cares go anywhere.
But I’d imagine that it sucks the most to just exist, passionless. I said to someone last night something to the effect that while being passionate and hopeful opens us up to immediate disappointment and pain, denying passion and hope, when you think about it, is far more painful in the long-term–and then there’s nothing that can be done about it.
Maybe having blood isn’t so bad at all. All the more reason to let the fellowship with the Spirit be the rewarding factor in all the mess!