The Lover's Dilemma: Lifelong Mutual Faithfulness

The Constant Refrain

Vulnerable, foolish, deceived, captivated,

Was I, am I, will I be

As long as you linger on in my broken heart.

My heart is fooled

So many times, so easily,

It doesn’t sense danger well.

“Are you so dangerous?

Your little deceptive eyes don’t threaten me at all.

They are magic, magic, penetrate my soul.”

How many times I counselled my silly heart:

Beware of girls who have a stony heart,

The heart that seldom melts when it sees

The lover’s dilemma.

Everytime my heart feels down, down, and down,

Until I reach the lowest point of my existence—

Breathless, gasping for air, as if all is lost,

My stomach hurts,

An emptiness that defies logic fills it fast.

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## The View from the Sidelines

Yesterday, on my way back,

I saw people happy and sad,

Pains they carry, their sunken faces reveal.

Some looked bright while others ignored every happening.

I felt like an orphan still, alone and vulnerable,

Avoided a few seats lest people misinterpret me.

I learned a lesson—or did I?—

To step away from areas of potential trouble.

My counselor seemed happy,

Not because of the ban I faced,

But he felt that I was grossly misunderstood,

And I needed to work on catching subtle cues,

Besides pausing the troublesome thoughts

By diverting my mind into reading or writing.

Well, I said, I knew the solution all along.

The ban, now, doesn't make any sense at all.

I should rather be investing my time, my energy,

In doing things that bring Him glory.

For everyday my heart feels down, down, and down,

Until I reach the lowest point of my existence—

Breathless, gasping for air, as if all is lost,

My stomach hurts,

An emptiness that defies logic fills it fast.

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## Sanctuary and the Three

After returning home, I felt at home.

Home is a place people seek where they would be received

Regardless of who did what.

Papa was happy, and mummy had a beautiful smile

On her face that I always seek to see.

It’s early still, didn’t get to meet my younger sibling,

Perhaps he will have a story to tell of what is happening.

A diversion? Maybe that's what could help

At this point of my living times.

The human mind is strange, its working baffles me.

Until yesterday, I couldn’t catch a breath

Without getting a glimpse of my beloved.

Today is a new day.

I have no one who I trust except for these three:

Papa, mummy, and Dhiru Bhai, named after Mr. Ambani.

Blood is thicker or water? I don’t know.

But when Christ’s people do their best to cast away,

You have nowhere else to go

But seek your “dad” when he can be found.

Yet still, the low point returns,

Breathless, gasping for air, as if all is lost,

My stomach hurts,

An emptiness that defies logic fills it fast.

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## The Spilled Milk and the Vision

I used to think God will never forsake me.

He will know the risks I took to be in him,

To follow him, to minister to him, to lead his flock,

And not to retaliate against my greatest enemy—

The ruthless one whose shadows make me shiver still.

I had a great desire to serve God by loving him and his creation:

Writing, teaching, researching for his glory.

Now, I seem lost for a vision that could breathe life

Into these bones, dead and defeated

By people who know how to unite and crucify a fellow human being.

Will he use me or not? I do not know.

I wished I could make him known to my relatives,

But now it’s too late, for the milk is spilled,

And people dread the ruthless ones of my past.

They tell me, “Why do you follow this God

Who has taken away your everything?”

I have no answer.

For if they knew what I know,

If they felt how I felt about my God,

This question would be pointless indeed.

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## The Cricket Analogy

Now, my desires, I hand them over to him.

Prayer is all I can do at this stage of my life,

Hoping he will turn things around though it seems stormy right now.

When he turns the tide someday in my favour,

I would also delight and glorify him in his priceless presence—

That I would pay my life for. Selah!

I explained my faith to Mr. B. the other day.

B. still lives in the old school of justified, sanctified, and glorified;

To get into heaven is a high goal.

I told him it’s like explaining cricket to a football lover

Who has no idea what cricket is like.

Three words: Lifelong Mutual Faithfulness

Instead of a one-time-confession of faith. Does it make sense? Perhaps.

God’s Spirit indwelling permanently to transform into his loving likeness,

Instead of gifts and power.

Maybe a little deep? Or is it?

Finally, we don’t go up as disembodied spirits into the afterlife

And play guitar or sitar the whole of eternity.

Jesus returns, changes everything,

Resurrects us with immortal bodies that see no corruption.

Hatred doesn’t exist in that world—

In the coming age, love reigns.

Mr. B. wasn't surprised, but he knew why cricket is deeper than football.

Like cricket, love is also complicated stuff.

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## The Final Horizon

After all this, I still wait on the sidelines,

Hoping for an inclusion into the Christian community.

An inclusion that makes me feel home,

Not an alien who has nothing to claim, nothing to offer.

When Jesus comes, things will be different.

The first will be last.

And we may have a fighting chance to hear:

“Well done, loyal servant.”

The only words still I crave to hear as I go along my business everyday

Of feeding the stray, helping the poor,

And reading the Bible to impart meaning into lives today:

First for me, then for my lovers and friends.

Though my silly heart must still beware of the stony heart,

Though the dilemma lingers,

And the emptiness tries to fill me fast—

I carry these words, and I keep going along my business.

Shaper and Manoj,

With lots of love!