New day!
New chance to be and to be Present!
Look!
The crease where heaven and earth join in conjugal bliss
Bearing forth the Child of the Sun!
Where God is playing; Holy Recreation releasing God’s Love!
Or, is it Re-Creating?
Each dawn pregnant with New Hope; New Possibilities;
New LIFE!
Laugh and Sing with the Joyous Many
Who dance with gods and angels.
Who sing with the Sun!
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Why is sadness a bad thing?
Should we all always allineate with the herd?
Fish find fluid fine to breathe,
That is their reality; their particular world.
What if sadness is mine?
The air that circulates in my lungs;
The Oxygen coursing through my veins
Bringing life to the cells that structure this frame?
Who are you, Happy Person, to judge my reality?
Yes, tears stand ready to serve me at a drop of the hat.
And, yes, my throat tightens and constricts when I gaze at you.
What makes that any different than the derision that you
Hold for me that erupts in guffaws and laughter?
No!
You don’t get to judge my world.
But, I will hold yours responsible for the
Hurt; the damage and destruction that your
Unreasoning judgment has wrought on me
And those who limp through this existence
Like I do.
My sadness is my crown and You cannot take it from me.
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“Cold hearted orb that rules the night,” proclaimed the Minstrel in Song.
His connection to the River of Creativity that courses through the Universe, wetting our souls with deep insight and wisdom, revealed that to him as “Truth.”
But, is it truly?
No. I think not.
Born in torment, Artemis broke free and roamed the wilds seeking her own under the silver, lunar light that illumines the night; illumines the heart.
“Freedom,” the goddess cried out in the forest she so loved.
Freedom, in the water reflection of her friend and charge as its image rippled on the surface of the water.
“Cold hearted orb?”
No.
Rather, freedom that shines in the silver-lumined teardrop that slips silently down my cheek.
Where do feelings come from?
Are they the result of millions of years of adaptation? A stew-like chemistry experiment that has never ended, that just keeps going and going and going….?
They allow us to fear danger and cleave to love. They are at the same time self-serving and self-giving.
Feelings are a Paradox.
Or, perhaps as some insist, Feelings are God-created and God-given. A gift to the Cosmos to be cherished. And, crushed. Because we can’t have those feelings running rampant in the Universe, now, can we? Besides, they are fleeting and cannot be trusted with things like truth and reality. Only faith in an invisible God can provide those.
If from God, then, does God feel? Does this Supreme Being express Supreme Passion?
Feelings are Good. No, wait! Feelings are Bad! No, wait! Feelings are complicated.
Emotions are elusive; effusive. Wisps of vapor that may cumulate and become cumulonimbus thunderheads filled with pervasive power that pummels our hearts casting a wide swath of destruction.
But, also cleansing the atmosphere of our heart. Refreshing. Reclaiming. Rousing us to reach for the mountaintops, even for the stars of heaven.
Why do we try to suppress feelings? Something so basic, yet absolutely intrinsic to who we are as Humans?
After so many years hiking through the wilderness of this life, I think, maybe, perchance, (I’m really not sure), that I am finally beginning to see and grasp something, some understanding (?), of this indwelling power. For, emotions…Feelings…are as important and necessary for our existence as the air we breathe. When stuffed and hidden, we suffocate, wither, and die. Such has been my experience.
But, maybe, just as the withered plant revives when given the life-giving water that courses through its chlorophyll laden veins, I, too, may revive and find life as I open myself to that emotive well-spring of my heart.
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“You know that I don;t love you,” she said. Her dark brown eyes gazing intently into my blue ones.
“Yes,” said I. “And, I don’t love you.”
As we continued to look into each other’s soul, my mind wandered down a long, dark hallway. At the end there was a door the color of the sky just before the darkening clouds rush in from the West.
Behind the door, a room like someone’s attic. It was filled with boxes written upon with “Kitchen,” or “Master Bdrm.” There were old lamps and even a broken down old refrigerator. All of these coated in a thick layer of dust accumulated over many years of lying here.
Hidden.
Unwanted.
Forgotten.
A sudden movement caught my eye. I glanced to my left and saw a tiny flash of light. I walked toward it, moving some old box, “Misc. Junk.” I looked down and saw a small creature. It reminded me of a firefly that floated silently above the floor. But, this was no insect. It had arms and legs. There was a face framed by golden hair cut short in a sort of bob cut.
I was caught, captivated, enthralled at this sight. “I’ve never seen anything like you!” The creature flew up so that we were face to face. Her radiant smile, (for the creature was surely a “Her”), spoke to my heart in ways that words cannot possibly express.
“I have been here for a very long time,” she said. “I have waited these many long years hidden among the dusty clutter of your heart. Waiting for this moment.”
With that she dove into my chest.
What warmth! The heat spread from my chest to my arms, my legs. It surged like a tsunami to by mind.
And, then I knew.
Suddenly, I was back sitting across from her. Her brown eyes still gazing into mine.
And, I saw a light within those eyes.
“We say there is no love. Yet, our eyes,” says I, “our eyes say Yes.”
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Dear Diary,
Well, here we are. September 18, 2019. Hump Day.
Whoopee fizz.
While it may be true that the Sun will come up today somewhere, a shadow remains over my heart. I can’t see what’s casting that shadow.
The darkness is palpable. A chill has settled over the verdant fields of my soul. The bright colors of green, yellow, and red have become monochromatic; gray and dull.
Where are the birds that skitter in the bright, blue sky? Their songs expressing joy and gaiety in far better language than 240 characters allow.
Have the deer lost their ability to bound over the hills and through the vales that texture my dreamscape? It seems so.
Yet, there is hope.
Because somewhere, the Sun will arise.
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I’m getting older.
Ok. That’s no surprise to anyone. We all are.
But, as I approach retirement sometime next year, I’ve spent considerable time in self-reflection. I search within to see if there actually has been any purpose to this life of mine.
I find little there.
Yeah, I followed the path that stretched before me. A path, by the way, that was mapped and defined by minds and wills other than my own. I have had my shares of humanity’s ubiquitous ‘Ups and Downs.’ Clearly, nothing out of the ordinary. I experienced many things that others have not. Some good; some not so much. Overall, my time walking this life has been functional, yet nondescript.
I have not had to struggle like so many in the world. Creature comforts have been available to me. I don’t need to walk 5 miles to a common well in order to have water to drink. There are several taps in my house that readily deliver that life sustaining liquid. Nor, am I required to sit and beg or dive into dumpsters for food. My local Mega Mart has everything that I could possibly want or need to satisfy the grumbling in my gut. Clothes, shelter, family…all of the things that seem to define the so-called American Dream have materialized before me.
So, what do I lack? For I must lack something.
In all of my travels and experiences I have never truly experienced happiness.
Maybe, happiness is simply overrated. I was told many years ago that as a Christ follower I should have something called ‘Joy.’ They said that happiness is nothing but a counterfeit version of Joy. We should not seek that at all.
But, when in every waking moment it feels like I have a Dementor from the world of Harry Potter sitting on my shoulder, well, something is amiss.
People I talk to about this don’t understand. They look at the stuff I have and the things that I’ve experienced and tell me that I should be glad.
Yet, the emptiness, the sadness remain.
“See a doctor and get some medication because what you describe sounds like simple depression that can easily be treated.”
Nope. Been there; done that. Medication doesn’t help. It only flattens my emotions until I feel nothing at all. Better to feel pain than everlasting numbness.
“Jesus is the answer to all of your problems.”
I’m sorry to say that’s simply not true. Contrary to what so many in the fundagelical world say, there is no God Shaped hole in us that only Jesus can fill. But, there does seem to be something that is missing. But, God isn’t it.
“Eat, drink, and be merry,” Qoheleth encourages. For what else is there for humanity to enjoy? Well, I can do one of those three things. Drinking is off the table because, well, I’m a recovering alcoholic and that wouldn’t be a good thing. Be merry? Well, that’s kind of the point of this post. Being merry eludes me.
Now, before anyone decides that I must be broken and that you are the one person in the world appointed to fix me.
Don’t. Please.
I’m not broken.
Sad? Yes.
Lonely? Ok.
Unsatisfied? Definitely.
But, this is how I feel. And, yes, feelings matter.
I have no intention of throwing in the towel and surrendering to despair. I also have no intention of lying to myself about my own reality.
Yeah, I’m getting older. But, as Dylan Thomas wrote,
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
I intend to follow his lead.
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I read this today and think that it’s an excellent way to talk about God’s Grace and how that relates to who we are vs. who we aspire to be as Christ followers. So, Enjoy!
“Confession showers your soul and conscience in my mercy, rather than asserting you have no need for it. Confession opens your heart to welcome Grace to transform the Way of your being. Confession reminds you that sin is a failure of love, and I’m calling you back to love. It opens your ears to hear me call you to back to the Father’s house. It calls you, also, to forgive others and to seek their forgiveness. Confession, in short, is a discussion with Grace and a surrender to divine Love. We have this conversation often, not because your heart is rotten, but because the plaque of sin obscures your truest self. It wants removal so that you shine brightly in this world.”
Read the entire piece by Brad Jersak here.
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Since June 2 I’ve had the opportunity to lead an adult Bible study at the church I currently attend. The priest here had started a similar study in the weeks before Lent. It was set aside as we all entered into the Easter season. It happened that several people thought that the study should be resurrected, (pun intended). So, Fr. Alex asked me if I would be open to help. So, here we are.
We are currently following the Revised Common Lectionary reading for each Sunday. Fr. Alex stated that it might be helpful to take a closer look at some of the passages that would be read that morning. So often these are simply read during the service without a great deal of reflection. This Bible study could help to provide tools with which they could reflect more fruitfully.
That all sounds ok.
I’m glad to help out with this. Especially, since I have the training and education to take on this role.
As we started things I knew that at some point Fr. Alex and I would touch on a common text. And, we would have divergent ‘takes’ on that text. I wondered how the folks who sat in on the Bible study and listened to Fr. Alex’s sermon might hear those different views. And, how I might address them.
Well, this past Sunday we did just that. We both spent time on the same passage from the Gospel according to Luke. And, yes, we looked at the passage from two distinct perspectives.
The text was from Luke 8:26-39. It’s the story of a man who was possessed by many demons. He lived among the tombs in the region of the Gerasenes on the eastern end of the Sea of Galilee. The story tells of how he could not be restrained by any means as he ran naked through the tombs. When Jesus and his disciples showed up, the man confronted Jesus and begged Jesus to not torment him. Jesus asked his name. The man said, “Legion,” for many demons dwelt in him.
The story goes on to state how “Legion” begged Jesus to send them into a local herd of pigs, who subsequently ran down a slope into the sea where they drowned.
Now, there’s a whole lot in this passage. People a lot smarter than me have argued about who the man was; where exactly did this happen; why pigs?
Fr. Alex shared from the pulpit how this passage demonstrated a clear political message that would have resonated with the original hearers of the story. He explained how Roman troops, who at the time occupied Israel and the surrounding territories, could be assembled in a group of about 6,000 soldiers called a Legion. Also, around this time a particular legion known as the Legio X Fretensis occupied Jerusalem and had on their banners the image of a boar.
You can begin to see where Fr. Alex was drawing similarities between the story and actual events.
His point was that the people who heard this originally would have understood the references and seen the story of Jesus overcoming the evil forces brought by Rome and “bringing justice into the midst of human suffering.”
He then reminded us of a message he gave on Pentecost Sunday in which he explained how we, as the Body of Christ, are the very hands and feet of Jesus in our world today.
If we are that, then we have the obligation and task to be the bringers of justice and deliverance to the oppressed people that we encounter. He cited the grave humanitarian catastrophe that is currently happening on our southern border. He challenged us to consider how we might each respond to the mounting injustice.
AMEN! Preach it!
But, then…there was my take on the story.
You see Fr. Alex had been inspired to share his liberationist understanding by news articles during the week that exposed what was happening to people. People made in the Image of God. People for whom Jesus gave his life.
I, on the other hand, was inspired by another of our Sunday lections. This one from Is. 65:1-9. The first couple of verses in this text reveal God desperately seeking God’s own people. God cries, “Here I am, here I am,” to people who ignore God. Isaiah wrote that God was sitting at the city gates with arms outstretched. This would have been how a beggar acted.
Certainly not God.
Yet, here we have an image of God revealed as a servant in order to help the people God so loved. I saw God allowing Godself to be seen and known by a people who had no interest.
The bottom line there was that God DESIRED to be seen and found. God was open for business. Come on in!
Similarly, at least to me, in the Gospel text my mind zeroed in on Jesus’ encounter with the possessed man. Jesus said,
“What is your name?”
Wow!
Here was a man who was obviously tormented. He had been chained and tied. He lived among the dead. He was naked and cast out.
And Jesus looked into his eyes and asked, “Who are you?”
Jesus, like God in the Isaiah text, made himself vulnerable to someone who was in desperate need. Someone who was potentially violent. Someone who had been cast aside and rejected.
Someone who was made in the image of God and for whom Jesus was willing to give His life.
Yeah, Fr. Alex and I came at the same text from two very different places and came to two different conclusions.
But, are they really that different?
Fr. Alex saw the text and gave us an actionable charge. As a pastor, that’s what he’s called to do. He energized us to get involved to help however we can with time, money, prayer.
I came to the text as a contemplative and revealed, I believe, a piece of God’s heart that will also lead to action. Albeit, a different flavor. I desire people to see, feel, touch, and know God intimately. To live and experience God’s deep love for all of the Cosmos. Then, to share that with others. Perhaps, especially with those who are suffering at the hands of a strong oppressor.
So, different takes on the same text. Both speaking God’s Word to those who can hear.
Innit Cool?
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It should really be a no-brainer. In fact, it seems that if you love God you will necessarily love your enemy.
Right?
For anyone whose home isn’t in some cave deep in the jungle that statement would ring true. But, for those of us who live and breathe in the U.S. things are a bit more nuanced, to say the least.
I spend a lot of time reading blogs, essays, and news reports from various sources. (Admittedly, Fox News is not one of them.) These pieces cover subjects from climate change to koalas with VD.
There is one topic that seems to garner a bit more than its fair share of coverage. That is, White Evangelicalism.
What is this, you ask?
White Evangelicalism is the broad umbrella that folks use to cover White conservatives who share some kind of Evangelical faith in God. These are the folks who voted overwhelmingly for Donald “Pussy Grabber” Trump. Some polls show that a good 83% of these people who profess to follow Jesus of Nazareth voted for him.
White Evangelicals are largely conservative politically and socially. Now, there’s nothing wrong with that. I respect their right to make those choices and will go to the mat with anyone who would try to take that right away. However, many of these people go well beyond simply supporting conservative causes. These others actively work to deny the rights of others to express themselves in a like fashion.
People like Steven Anderson, pastor of Faithful Word Baptist Church. Pastor Anderson is vocally anti LGBT. His hatred for LGBT people has gotten him banned from several countries in Africa and Europe.
There’s Robert Jeffress of First Baptist in Dallas. He is a noted supporter of Mr. Trump and other hard-line, nationalist conservatives. In his mind it seems that there are only two groups of people, White Evangelicals and Everyone Else. Everyone Else is, well, you get it. He and others whom historian John Fea refers to as Court Evangelicals have an agenda that seems to desire an American theocracy with White Evangelicals at the helm. No other solution to what they see are the ills that plague this nation is possible. For them it is a zero sum game where any gain by Everyone Else is necessarily a loss for White Evangelicals. Period. End of story. This causes Pastor Jeffress and others like him, say, Franklin Graham, Jim Dobson, Jerry Falwell, Jr., and others to view Everyone Else as enemies to be vanquished.
So what? Who really cares what a bunch of crotchety old white guys think, anyway?
Well, me for one.
Yeah, I consider myself part of Everyone Else. But, that’s not why what these people think or say. The thing that bothers me is that they spew their hatred for Everyone Else in the name of Jesus. And, I’m sorry, that doesn’t cut it. These people don’t get a free pass to hate others in the name of a Person who hated no one.
So, a few days ago as I was praying I had to confess to God that I felt that these people were enemies of the Gospel. That also made them my enemies. This was hard for me to say. After all, I lay claim to faith in God through Christ. Just like many of those White Evangelicals do. Shouldn’t I consider them my sisters and brothers? After all, not all siblings get along real well. But, they’re still siblings none the less.
Well, maybe. I supposed sisters can grow up in a way that will alienated them from their sisters and brothers. They could technically become ‘enemies.’
But, what I feel is different. It’s like these people are illegitimate children. Bastards born of a different lineage all together. How was I to deal with this? Should I attack them like they attack Everyone Else? No, that doesn’t sound right. Should I embrace them and engage with them with the love of Christ? That sounds like enabling. I don’t think that’ll work either. What then?
So, I prayed.
A couple of days before this I led a Bible study at the church I attend. One of the texts we looked at was Psalm 8. In that Psalm is this line: ” Out of the mouths of babes and infants you have founded a bulwark because of your foes, to silence the enemy and the avenger,” NRSV. I don’t like that translation so much. Looking at the original language I think a better translation would be, “Out of the mouths of children and sucklings You have established a stronghold that will silence Your foe and avenger.” It seems that the praise of those who are the weakest and most vulnerable is capable of silencing the loud clamor of those who stand opposed to God.
I realized that I don’t need to take White Evangelicalism to task. I really don’t even need to deal with them at all. My first obligation is to praise God and live in a manner that reveals God’s heart for EVERYONE, (White Evangelicals included). By doing that and encouraging others to do likewise, the voices of the Enemy will be silenced.
Should we love our enemies? Yeah. But, that doesn’t mean that we must engage with them on their terms. Our first responsibility is to love and engage with God. Anything more is just noise.
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