Thursday, September 20, 2012

bursting with passion

Have you ever heard that saying--or, at least, some variation thereupon? I love listening and watching people talk about the things they're passionate about. Their eyes get wider, their voice speeds up, its pitch arcing toward the ceiling, their hands begin to move, and their whole body strains as if it will fly up along with their voice, every fibre of their being straining with the pure feeling they have about this thing.

I love having that feeling, too. I love feeling as if I'm full up to bursting...though sometimes, the expression on the face of the person I'm talking to ruins it. Sometimes (actually pretty often), people laugh, as if embarrassed by the warmth of your feeling, and they look away. No, they are embarrassed. And that's sad.

Because what's wrong with feeling passionate about something? What's wrong with expressing it? Why should it embarrass us to be utterly open about the things that move us, that make our hearts beat and our feet move and our voices speak and sing and shout? Because on an emotional, raw level, the things we care about are the things that keep us alive. So why is it that, sometimes, we try to hide those things, as if they're shameful?

So let me tear off my own cloak for a moment.

i am passionate about souls.
i said it.

Sometimes, when I get to thinking about the world, and how big it is, and how many people live in it, and all the places that are so beautiful, and all the children who need a mother, and all the mothers who need some hope, and all the fathers who need some help, and all the souls that need Christ, I get to feeling so full up of feelings that I simply want to burst.

And I want to reach out to all of them, all at once so badly that it hurts. And not just an "oh, that touches my heart, ouch, why do I have to feel guilty and all these things" sort of hurt. I mean a raw, deep, visceral, physical hurt. And even though it hurts, even though it leads to this feeling that I'm been chosen for something that's impossible, that I'll never be able to reach out to all those people who need Christ, I love it.

I love it because it means I'm alive. I love it because it means God's not done with me yet. I love it because it means I've got a purpose for living here, that I've got work to do, that until the day I die I will have something to do. I won't be bored, because God's got plans. And in the meantime, I have this burning passion, deep inside, just waiting to be translated into action, one problem at a time.

So tell me--what is it that you're passionate about? What makes your heart beat faster? What makes your heart beat, period? I really do want to know.

- Kyla Denae

1 comment:

Cassandra said...

Beautiful thoughts, Kyla, and your deep passion about souls is one of the things I love about you.

Thank you for your comment on my blog... yes... the plum cake turned out much better than the cornbread did (giggle)

Anyway... I miss you and hope that we can catch up soon.