TEEN ANGST

You don’t get to tell me who god is because you believe in rainbows.

I waged war for god when I was in high school.

Stood on the steps of my high school and preached with all of my teen angst.

“Revival is coming”

And it did.

For me at least (and a few others).

I got to college, to my first churches, and I realized this passion, this urgency, was idealistic to them.

They didn’t want what I wanted, because they didn’t even know what I was referring to.

They knew god like they had read Harry Potter.

I knew god because I had practiced his book of enchantments. 

I knew god because I danced at the altar. Like screamo style lol. 

I quit being a pastor because having student debt and people’s hope fund my life felt dishonest.

There is no way any god would want this.

Critique me all you want, but I actually quit.

I realized any pastor still peddling hope was only on the stage because he couldn’t unlock the book for himself.

It’s the critique of Drake and why some rappers shit on him: he is a fan of rap, but he doesn’t know the culture firsthand. It doesn’t take away from his talent, but he just read Harry Potter. He doesn’t know.

Let’s not mistake Drake for Kendrick, or Mobb Deep.

Let’s not mistake men on stages for people with spiritual authority.

Let’s not mistake men with MBAs as masters of business.

NULLIUS IN VERBA (take no one’s word for it)

I should have fucking known at 18, I felt it. 

These pastors couldn’t offer me anything I didn’t already know.

They are boot lickers.

I gave it 10 more years after that. Fuck.

I should have jumped from high school to the pros.

It’s been almost 10 years since I quit the profession.

They still can’t unlock the book.

They are prisoners to hope, to certainty, to doctrine, to licking boots.

The secret is immersion.

The secret is to be embarrassed for your beliefs, to be judged on your performance.

To allow others to commentate on your actions.

Look at who we pay in society, how much, and how they get their money.

It will tell you what costs what.

If you want to ascend, fuck some shit up.

The same story that has me judged on one coast, has me soaring on another.

I can’t offer you hope.

I can only remind you, that your story belongs to you, not to them.

“This guy’s a gangster? His real name is Clarence.” - 8 Mile