Gain access to a new thing. Imagine you are tiny, running around inside your brain, bumping into all of your thoughts and images…
frosted wheats, cheetos, maltballs, dutch oven pie, camping smells of camp chests full of bug spray and deoderant leaked out. suddenly, memories of summer camp. each year down in southern missouri. wandering off from the group into the forest for hours. finding baby deer and turtles. communing with nature.
i miss the natural world. why can’t i seem to get back to it?
what is this insistence on finding my way inside words?
imagining a triangle above my head, and me flitting about from corner to corner like a ping-pong ball stuck within the lines of the triangle. worn like a tricorner hat, a cheesehead hat.
why can’t they cut open a lower life form and extract all of its memories from its tiny little brain? if we are purely physical and material beings in this physical world, why is this such a difficult task for scientists?
where is the information really being stored?
Gain access to an old thing…return to what matters most.
Same path trod.
Same path as millions of others.
Continued refusal to accept that this is all.
An invitation to sup with Christ.
Sit and dine with Christ, have a meal and conversation.
The love Christ outpours is overwhelming.
Christ ceaselessly empties the Spirit,
with no reservation, no holding back.
The outpouring of love is rooted in the communion.
The mixing of the Word, the Spirit with the urgent needs of the human animal.
The invitation to sup with Christ comes cutting
through a morass of desires to fill myself up with the pride of the vastly learned.
I continually forget that I am here because I am a follower of Christ, not a follower of human theories, theologies, modes of worship, approaches to exegesis, methods of textual criticism.
Meanwhile my spirit shrivels up, my soul gasps in great thirst
As I try to power myself ahead by brain and body alone.
Agape love is what remains after the dross is melted away.
I should never shy away from the flames when they come my way
Licking at my most precious pieces of Ego
I’ve erected in forms less stable than the shoddiest house of cards.
I should leap into the flames with all of my faith kept front and center
In all I think, say and do.
The flames will bring pain and sometimes uncertainty and even something worse–accedia,
But in the end the flames will burn away the pieces of Ego
Accruing like barnacles, clutching fast to an otherwise faithful boat
What remains will be the kind of vessel that can sail through any tempest.