So it finally happened. It’s over. You stare down upon your lifeless body watching the turmoil and medical personnel desperately try to bring you back to life. Your mind is numb and you are reeling drunk with disillusionment. You are simply trying to figure out what just happened.

Something is wrong. We all know it. We all feel it, yet we don’t know how to address it. We square off with society and return with more questions than answers, more doubt than direction, and more frustration than fulfillment. Or even worse, which only proves my point, we don’t even care.

I am fascinated by humanity. Deep down I think we all are. We are attractively irritating, wonderfully complex, and uniquely annoying. We tend to be masters at solving everyone’s problems but our own, and are able to spot hypocrisy in everyone but ourselves.

When I read John chapter six I get a strong feeling of déjà vu, like somehow I have been there before. After reading this passage I am usually left with a deep sense of introspection. The fingers of self blame are many and pointed, after all when you find a fault within yourself, it is tough to run away.