Living in the Present

I live with my fingers on my phone. My eyes occasionally leave its illuminated screen. I look at those who are angry and respond to them by giving them some credence. I remember the situations that are terrible. I think of the future as some large black hole that must be jumped into.

But I want to see that change. I want to live in the present.

I'm tired of every situation being an Instagram post; every funny moment is to be posted to Facebook; every situation happening in my life is a possible like on a social network.

I want to remember the good times. I want to see the beauty and just marvel at the greatness of God.

I want to be able to laugh and not feel that this is some sort of moment that needs to be broadcast to my acquaintances who I have the pleasure of friending on Facebook.

I want a simple life. A life where God is very real. A life that is not consumed by a fanatic desire for fame, money, sex, pride, and that assortment of sins that calls out to the heart of man.

Life is so beautiful with Christ. When he is a very evident part of my observance of the past, a living in the present, and the plans of my future, life is good.

When I abandon him for my attempts at fame, a fill of lustful desires, and a prideful heart, life becomes a turbulent pool of living hell.

And yet, the fool's burnt and bandaged fingers go wobbling back to the fire. The dog returns to his vomit. And I turn my eyes back towards hell.

"O God, do not be far me;
O my God, make haste to help me!"