An Ache

Unbreakable is probably one the most underrated films of the last ten years. In it Bruce Willis plays a superhero that chose safety over his purpose. As a result, he has spent the last fifteen years waking up every morning with a sense of grief, a sense of loss. It takes the tuggings and nudgings of a nicely coiffed Samuel L. Jackson to show him that the ache he felt was the regret of not doing what he was made to do. Even after this revelation he is reluctant to correct the situation.

Whenever I experience beautiful art, particularly of the kind that involves words, I feel that same ache. The shallow part of it is "I could have made something like that - or better than that." The truth, or at least something that comes closer to the truth, is that a beautiful story reminds me of something I have often forgotten, even sometimes deliberately - I was meant to devote energy, sweat, and passion to writing. I've always known it. And the ache of not doing it for so long haunts me.

So, I've come back to this forgotten blog. I created it in a fit of rage almost 4 years ago, wrote one poisonous entry, and then tried to bury it in the web page history of my computer's memory. But now I'm back. I feel that I've been summoned, that I have some things that I must say, and that I ought not to hide behind anonymity.

I am Toby Locke, and I have opinions. Thoughts. Ideas. Interpretations. Likes. Dislikes. I'm a follower of Jesus, so most of what I will talk about is filtered through that grid. I love movies, enjoy good books, drink music like cold water on a hot day, and delight in my three sons and my beautiful wife. My heart throbs with the beauty of competition in a variety of sports, from basketball to baseball to American football. I puzzle over the Bible, especially the parts that don't fit neatly into the mostly helpful categories that Christianity has created for it over the last two thousand years or so. On that topic alone there are a thousand questions to pore over, to discuss, to wrestle with.

And yet I hesitate. Am I sure that this is a good idea? Will I be able to keep it up, to maintain it? Will it do any good? What's another voice among millions more belligerant and intelligent than mine? I suppose it doesn't matter.

In the end it's all about the ache, right? Making the ache go away. Answering the summons. Obeying what I understand to be God's stirrings within me. Emptying my insides of the burning words that I grow weary of keeping to myself.

Yeah. That's it. So, here goes...