the phony in me puts on the appearance of strength, but with less than satisfactory results.

it does not require close inspection to realize that although our man “el gigante” is very tall, he is wearing a suit with the muscles drawn in. and randomly placed shag carpet. i’m sure this struck terror in the hearts of his opponents, but probably not in the way he intended.

putting on appearances, play acting, pretending…. it’s such a ridiculous endeavor. and yet, i often find myself carefully putting on my muscle suit, ready to parade around the ring, hoping no one will notice. i need to be rescued again and again from the charade.

i long to find true strength. christ in me, the hope of glory. maybe something a bit more like this >>
no pyrotechnics, no flashbulbs. just accomplishing a task that seems impossible, reaching for something beyond me. not literally, of course (although being able to rip a phone book in half or break a bunch of cinder blocks with my nogging would be pretty great), but the inner transformation from fear to courage, from apathy to passion.

becoming an easter person. alive. strong. maybe even pulling a tractor or two along the way.

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