Deconstruction of the American Dream (But that doesn't make me some kind of socialist)

I don't know if its something they fed us as babies, or if it was subliminal messages on the television while we watched Fraggle Rock, but somehow we have grown up desiring the American Dream.

Ah the American Dream, the name we have assigned to our endless desire for that one thing more that will bring contentment... that one last thing that will bring us endless joy.

I thought I was immune to it, just like we all did. We realized its emptiness, and mocked its ability to control those around us. But not us... it wouldn't get us!

Until the day we find we're the crazy ones, holding a strainer under a running sink wondering why it never fills.

Oh to have all the things we have been told we need to be content and complete. Wealth, a good job, a loving spouse, obedient and beautiful kids... Or that one more thing to fill the void we can't name and fear to speak of.

I can't tell who told me about this dream, or who put it in my mind that I need these things. All the same there is this drive in me, this force that tells me I need them and mourns that each of them escapes my grasp.

I'm left with two options, either I am not a good American or the American Dream is not the thing that will complete me.

I risk being preachy by what I am going to say next, but it needs to be said all the same:

None of these things are ever going to make us complete. It is human nature that none of it will ever be enough. We are gluttons who are never full! We always want more. Happiness is always over the next hill, and we seek it out relentlessly. We're fooling ourselves.

I do not have the American Dream, and its not really in my grasp. I thank God for that. Its not a coping mechanism, but a firm grasp on reality, that leads me to say that I don't need any of those things to feel complete.

If I never get married. If I never have a job that provides retirement, insurance, paid vacations, and a cool title that will impress people. If I never have children. If I never have a nice house. If I never have enough money to buy a big screen TV to see Die Hard in all its seventy inch glory... All the same:
Christ has looked on me and seen my sin, seen my shame, seen my hopelessness and through humiliation, suffering, and death, has carved the only way to end my pain and bring me to eternal hope. I am a son of God, born not from flesh and blood but singularly from His will. I am a sinner who has been saved by grace and it counted righteous because Christ has made satisfaction for me, taking the death I deserved that I might share in His glory. I have been crucified with Christ and resurrected into a living hope. No matter what happen in this life that can never be taken away from me. What is left for me to dream for that is greater than that?

What need is there that the Lord cannot provide for a hundred times over? Nothing. So even if it makes me a bad American I have stopped going after the American dream, do my best (by His grace) to seek first His kingdom and His righteousness.

Amen.

None of this is to say that jobs or relationships, or material possessions are bad or not worth taking a part in. They cannot be an end unto themselves. These blessings God gives to us should point us towards Him, not to our own indulgences and self gratification.
God help us all... and He who is faithful, surely will complete the work He has begun in us.

old poems that were songs when I screamed in a hardcore band

Once upon a time Tyler was in a hardcore band. That's right, a hardcore band: where the guitars where tuned to drop B, the drummer constantly was breaking cymbals and the singers screamed every lyric. I was the guy who screamed. I thought this was a good time to look at old lyrics to see where I was to reflect better on where I am and where I hope to go as I live out my life.
"Holy Covenant"
Bury-the ashes of fallen dreams
release-our hopes for greatness
surrender-our pride our everything
to find something better than we could ever attain-on our own

we're expecting pain and suffering
anticipating the loss of everything

knowing the hurt
knowing the pain
we enter into this covenant

never give in, never live in surrender

stubborn until death, this will be our cry:

never give in, never live in surrender

"Cry of Resistance"

bite the hand that feeds me/when that hand tries to poison me/i will not be brainwashed/i will not be controlled/i will not be told how to think/i'll hear all sides/find the truth/not your convenient ideal/bite the hand that feeds me/when that hand tries to poison me

"Untitled"*
You're my all/you're everything to me/you're all that I am/everything I want to be/this fire inside me/forever let it burn/oh God keep this passion in my heart/oh God like the fire make me like you/i want nothing more than to follow you all of my days/so God I pray/take me and break me and make me more like you/come trials or persecution my strength is in you/i'll never turn/i'll never regret my sacrifice/its all about you


None of these are particularly good. But I think they are interesting to look at and reflect on. I like seeing where I was, so I can learn from the past and grow. Maybe I can hold onto those strong points, and progress in the weak ones. That's the dream** anyways.

*I actually wrote this when I was like 15 or 16 but we tried making it into a song so I thought it'd be fun to look at again after so long.
**not the American Dream, that I plan on discussing later

Fear

Sharks scare me so bad my bone marrow freezes, my spine locks and vertebrae fuse together.

I am not trying to be cute when I admit that my friends and I recently took the time to watch Sharkweek one evening. I decided to face my fear, look into the eyes of evil, and stand anew, a warrior who has conquered the monster of fear.

I had nightmares.

The whole night's sleep was draped in visions of sharks swarming, chasing, and feasting.

I faced my fear but my fear remained resolute still.

God willing I will never see a shark in the flesh, apart from when he and I are separated by thick enough glass that all the desire and hunger in the world will not be enough for him to be able to break it. The fear remains and keeps me from waters and from watching Sharkweeks.

Sharks, you do not frighten me so much because in the darkness of my room you cannot harm me. You remain in your world and I in mine.

As I lay safe and sound from all the evils of the world of sharks there is another fear that lurks in my heart, that attacks me only when I'm alone. Only when I feel the most safe.

This fear, I would gladly exchange all the sharks in the world for this darkness.

It is the voice late at night.

The voice that challenges everything I am.

The voice that examines and criticizes and calls every imperfection to mind.

Every imperfection so I can think on them over, and over, and over again.

And that voice, when all other voices have been silences, whispers to me the thought.

The thought that makes me long for the company of Jaws himself to distract from the hurt.

The thought is this: what if all that I was ever good at was lying?

Have I fabricated fictions to perpetuate personas that create a caricature that would be me.

What if the only thing I was good at was pretending to be something, anything other than what I value most: Honest.

It seems foolish to escape swimming with sharks only to lay in the grass with snakes.

God help me!