Spiritual Cripples Cripple People

I wrote this song in the 90s. It was after we'd had our church division, and before I was quite free from my church mindset, and before I got kicked out for having liberty.  There was one man in particular who inspired this song, but there's always a guy like this.  They die and are replaced by new ones.

   They can smell growth.  They can smell liberty.  They can smell tolerance, and any loving agenda one might be starting to ponder, other than the iron-clad old "we're correct" one.  And they don't like it.  It makes them uncomfortable.  Reminds them of a time when they pondered being real, genuine human beings freed by the work of Christ working in them, working out how this translates into today, and doing love, liberty and life in an unmistakable way.  It gives them flashbacks.

   Because they were young once too.  They once saw the world through relatively agenda-less eyes, and were willing to meet it and deal with what it was, and what it could be, rather than what they needed to pretend it was, in order to "do adult" they way they felt everyone should.

   But then they got hurt.  Usually someone kneecapped them right when they were doing this, or they fell and got hurt while charting uncharted territory and scaling the terrain God had spring up for their exercise, wonderment and benefit.  And they decided that exploring's not safe.  Not good.  Never mind what God made or what He wants.  No seeking.  It's best to stay indoors and only talk about how great it is (or dangerous it is) outside, but not go out there anymore.  And not think or feel anything to vividly.  To wait.  For death.

   Of course, when an unsuspecting young person strides by, eager to see what's out there, eager to connect with people and see and what can be done and seen and tasted, felt and explored, these old cripples (often middle-aged men) sprang spryly into action.  Hand on shoulder.  Word to conscience.  Something that triggered the inner floodgates of shame and doubt.  Something that served fear.  Something that trapped, limited and broke people's natural urge to live lives.

   It's not that hard to sling shame, doubt, fear, suspicion and self-loathing on people.  Any tabloid can do it.  It's dirty work.  These people need to be avoided, or confronted very directly.  Otherwise there will be grit in the gears, a fly in the ointment and a turd in the cornflakes every single day.

   So I wrote this song.  Now it's got Bethany and Pierre playing cello, and Joel may provide some ominous sounds to go underneath it

Comment from a reader:
this validates and makes sense out of something I've been struggling with. I know and love a number of people who are emotionally, spiritually, and mentally stunted. They reached a certain place in growth in those areas, and then were very badly hurt in one area or another. They didn't deal with, heal from, come to terms with the pain, they just stopped. Like, everything. Stopped growing. Stopped learning. Stopped taking things in and letting things out. The living waters within them turned stagnant and teemed with bacteria. The living things inside them died and decayed, further poisoning the waters. And this is the way they think everyone should live. And they throw their acid bath of shame and self doubt if you choose to heal and recover.