[Child of God]: 416.Poetry.Nonsense

It doesn’t make sense.

Really, it doesn’t if you think about it.

It doesn’t make sense that I believe the building blocks of life were intentionally placed, rather than spontaneously appearing.
It doesn’t make sense that I believe those building blocks follow an intended design for a specific purpose, rather than randomly combining.
It doesn’t make sense that I believe life was intentionally create, rather than a random accident.
It doesn’t make sense that I believe a heartbeat, rather than intake of first breath, indicates life.

Really, if you think about it, it just doesn’t make any sense.

It doesn’t make sense that I admire something I can’t see, rather than a flawed person I can see.
It doesn’t make sense that I still believe in chilvery in a clearly unisex age.
It doesn’t make sense that I believe in sexual purity, in a porn-obsessed country.
It doesn’t make sense that I believe evil exists, when the rest of the world denies it. After all, it’s clear Hitler just had a poor childhood.

I tell ya, it just doesn’t make sense!

It doesn’t make sense that I believe in a God, when science clearly shows there to be none.
It doesn’t make sense that I believe this is a God of love, when the world is so full of hate.
It doesn’t make sense that I believe this God tried to show us this love
By coming to us as a baby,
Into a family of poverty,
Living in an occupied land,
Under foreign rule,
Experiencing the same things man does,
Feeling the same things man does;
Happiness,
Joy,
Love,
Sorrow,
Pain,
Despair.
It makes less sense that I believe this God was rejected by his people,
Was beaten and bruised,
Scorned and mocked,
And served a punishment for crimes he did not commit.
It doesn’t make sense that this God cried and bled, in an attempt to show his love for us.
It doesn’t make sense that this God would give his life for us.

It doesn’t make sense I tell you.

It doesn’t make sense that this God should cry when he is rejected,
Should bless those who strike him,
Should plead for those who mock him,
Should forgive those who murder him.

It doesn’t make sense that I believe love can overcome even death, when it was hatred that put it there.

It doesn’t make sense that I believe it is his arms who embrace the crying child,
His voice which guides the lost,
His feet which mark the path,
His hands which catch those who fall,
His laugh which brings joy.
It doesn’t make sense that I believe it is his tears and his blood that show love.

It doesn’t make sense how love can bring hope, even in the most hopeless of times.
It doesn’t make sense that love comes with a price for those who give it, but cost nothing for those who receive it.

It just doesn’t make any sense. After all, everyone knows that love doesn’t exist anymore.