Crushed

There is a deep beauty that runs through this life.
So intrinsically woven even Death cannot remove its brilliant color.
The Fool of Death believes in only the finite-end and cannot see what Death has unknowingly ushered.
Such a force and violent quake; the veil separating the Shadow from the True is torn with power.

An in-breaking finds us and blinds with what earthly eyes are not conditioned to see.
A potency of rich beauty released, so strong, so pure, it can no longer be contained.
Tasting such fullness from the Source brings the knowledge that what was before was a thin diluted true.
Bearing witness to such power I erupt with confession:
"Even now, even here, it is good".

What's in My Journal

Odd things, like a button drawer. Mean
things, fishhooks, barbs in your hand.
But marbles too. A genius for being agreeable.
Junkyard crucifixes, voluptuous
discards. Space for knickknacks, and for
Alaska. Evidence to hang me, or to beatify.
Clues that lead nowhere, that never connected
anyway. Deliberate obfuscation, the kind
that takes genius. Chasms in character.
Loud omissions. Mornings that yawn above
a new grave. Pages you know exist
but you can't find them. Someone's terribly
inevitable life story, maybe mine.

                                                   - William Stafford

Compelled to Confess

I was compelled to confess this week.  Not my sin but my affirmation.  This confession was not given as if to convince myself, rather it welled up within me until I burst with belief.

I believe God is who he says he is; and he is good.

I believe my children are who he says they are; his beloved.

I believe my wife and I are who he says we are; his children.

I believe the power of death is great and certain; but there is a power still greater.

I believe the resurrection has the last word and it will be spoken forever.

God's Absence

I have often been told that when one first turns to God, one is greeted with brilliant 'Yes' answers to prayers.  For a long time that was true for me.  But then, when he has you hooked, he starts to say 'No'.  This has been, indeed, my experience.  But it has been more than a 'No' answer lately; after all, 'No' is an answer.  It is the silence, the withdrawal, which is so devastating.  the world is difficult enough with God; without him it is a hideous joke.

Madeleine L'Engle, The Irrational Season

We have been fooled to believe that following after God always brings clarity and dispels any confusion.  In this instance Religion is exceedingly helpful; an answer for everything and everything in order.  Yet somewhere along life's path the construct of Religion (whether it be our religious fervour for politics, god, or human ingenuity) is tested by the weight of the unpredictable mess-of-life.  We work diligently to ensure that the structure of our Religion can withstand the pressure.  We double our efforts, deepen our convictions, and attack out of our own survival.

There is so much at stake; there is too much to lose.

Our self-preservational instincts to double our efforts around our ideologies will only shroud us from the depth and vastness of God.  We will live small lives if we hold on too tightly for fear that our life may actually be lost.

This is the descriptive of a grown-up-mature faith.  One that no longer is seduced by an answer for everything and can instead, in the stillness of God's absence, continue the journey in faith.

"Anxious Hope"

22x30 Watercolor