Closed Circuit Breathing August 27, 2009

The out of towners. They swept into this village because actually their religion didn’t quite inspire them, didn’t quite engage with their heart, mind and soul. All conquering Greeks in Galilee. They knew where to find Him. All they sought was truth and it lead them to a feast in a small fishing village with a large lake.

The Far East sent representatives to cradle The Christ, the Far West sent them to His cross. Central to all things is The Christ. So when the out of towners turn up at a feast in Galilee and ask to see Him, there is reason for His strange reaction. They were not random party crashers, they represented a unity that He was preparing himself to be broken for. The figure of these two Greeks symbolised a global nation, moving from comfort zones to seek Him.

He reacts with all the fusion of a bitter cocktail; Hope and Sacrifice. The reconciliation of life itself should countervail his being but somehow his Galilean shoulders distribute the load and He drives forward. To have it, you must be prepared to lose it.

What does He say when invited to an audience with the out of towners? A comedy, A Tragedy, A Fairy Tale. You must fall into the ground and die before you can grow. Like a seed, Like hope, Like a dream, Like a grain.

This is my life. This is for me. I am burying myself deep in Him, ready to grow.

known August 26, 2009

To recognise someone by just their voice. To know someone by just their footsteps. By just their breathing. Just their presence. There is a deepness to which I am known. As mysterious as the ocean, depths that I cannot travel and yet someone else has. The further down the more transparent. Until at the sea bed is me. Simply me, no inhibitions, no agenda, no fig leaf, no appearance for the sake of the world. Me, the me who has no fear because he has no hatred and is full of love. That me knows His voice. Starring down at the sea from the safety of a fishing boat, I know His voice. But He KNOWS me. Truly, madly, deeply.

To be understood when no one else quite gets me. To be understood before I can understand myself. To be known. His wisdom has made me a fool. On the sea bed I look up with the refractive index of hope, one day there will be no more saltwater. One day the restoration from distortion to gem stone will be complete. He knows me distorted, looking down at the sea, and He knows me as a gem stone, looking up from the sea bed. He knows me. Through Him I can Know me. Through His time machine eyes I can see my distortion and my gem stone. Through knowing Him, I can dive into the big blue. By being known I have a start point and a destination. I have a journey. By being known by Him I cam make myself known to others.

To be known is a beautiful place to be.

trainspotting August 25, 2009

A Comedy. So far from the reality that one is left with the option of laughing or crying because the situation has already exceeded life’s maximum allotted capacity. Comical because imagination has been captured and a new way of doing life has been designed. Hope, sought.

The Magi knew where to find Him. The outcasts knew where to seek Him. The broken hearted knew where to listen to Him. The sick knew where to be healed by Him. The women knew where not to look and even Judas knew where to betray Him.

Comedy because everyone knew where to look except those who were supposed to know. The disciples didn’t know. Comedy. Different. Life giving.

A Tragedy because after we laugh, we cry. Tragic because we are expecting to laugh but there is no punch line. Tragic because the new way of life steers totally out of control. A tragedy because at first its dark, then its light, then its dark again.

A tragedy because life is difficult, painful, unfair.

A fairy tale because the ending is spectacular. The resolve is tremendous. The hope restored. Back in Kansas with Toto. A fairy tale because after the tragedy there is nowhere left, somehow a new world is birthed where there wasn’t one earlier that day. Somehow the parameters of life itself are stretched so far that a spiritual big bang occurs.

A hopeless situation is one where hope is rejected from the outset. With no hope, it is impossible to find Him. A molecule of hope is all that is needed to begin the fairy tale from distortion to gem stone, it is all that is needed to find a precious pearl, to find a lost coin, to avoid the empty tomb and seek Him amongst the living, not in a cemetery.

Hope bursts onto the scene like a million stars. A new world, my world, my life, a fairy tale.

neither do i August 24, 2009

Where are they all? Where did they go? They were the best of the best, the elite. They looked like they meant business. They had a fire in their bellies. They were restless, they grabbed a human being to make a point, to trap Him. It was so wrong. Wrong that their actions were protected by the law. Wrong that an agenda was attached to a judgement.

A pocket of wind scooped up a middle eastern dustbowl that was no sooner in mid air that it darted into different directions, a hindrance into the eyes and mouths of the so called elite but desert ink for Him. Crouching down he cut into the soft dryness producing arid graffiti.

Like the relentless thud of a bass drum pedal at sound check. Rocks and stones dropped from heights of less than a meter create a percussive soundtrack, a rhythm that is awkward for some and enchanting for others. Hands that gripped judgement tightly are now compelled to do no more than simply let go. Only the religious leaders retain their weapons of destruction, the oversized rocks distorting the shape of their hands. The desire to launch their pride for now has been diminished by the wisdom of the one who writes in the wastelands.

Soon, they were all gone. Where to? There was no reason to stay. In the end just He and her.

Woman He said, where have they all gone? She as mystified as those who gathered to punish her, shrugs her shoulders in disbelief. has no one condemned you? A fragrance wrapped up in dust circles her, frees her. No master, no one she said. Then neither do I. From there a call to pursue a life undistorted, to walk away from a twisted routine to becoming a gem stone.

Hope.

beth sad a August 23, 2009

I want restoration. As simple as that. I desire to pursue this journey from distortion to gem stone. Discipline is my vehicle, consistency my tax. There is no rocket science formula. There is no secret. Discipline and consistency in pursuit of Him bring me to a place where life is balanced, restoration allowed and transformation engaged.

I have to want it. This life cannot work if at my core, I am fighting.

I can sit and watch or I can engage. I can apply peace of mind or I can exercise hope. I can lay down in Bethsada content and broken. I can watch a life pass me by. I can convince myself that this is a good as it gets, and quite frankly it could be worse but I am here to change-ish. I do kind of want to be a better person. And then, fireworks. Explosions. Dynamite. He sees me,

“Hey, Do you really want to be change?”

Do I? I thought I did. My life positioned my self in a place where I wanted to improve. Maybe my actions didn’t always demonstrate that, but, yes I do want to change.

“Yes”

“So change, leave this place, Go.”

So change? That’s it? Comedy. What a joker. After a few seconds, minutes I realised there was no wry smile on His face. I stood up and left. I kept walking in the direction He went. I have never looked back. I am still walking, following Him. All this time, waiting for some magical fairy dust to transform my life. All along I could have just got up and left. I Spent so much time trying to over-complicate everything, find the broomstick of the wicked witch and bla bla bla. All along I could have just got up, all I need is discipline and consistency.

demus August 22, 2009

Comedy. A moment, what lies before me had been spoken in an anechoic chamber, no sound apart from God sound. In that moment the foolishness of what was said drip drips into my mind. So crazy, I have to laugh. It is comedy no?

My dear Nicodemus, why its obvious, you simply have to be born again. Thank you and goodnight.

(N) What? Come again?

My good fellow, its like the wind, comes and goes. That’s it. No more.

(N) You’re kidding right? That’s it? No more?

Comedy, the comic before the relief, the joke before the pain. Laughter before tears. Life. From one comedy to another tragedy. The great thing is that the fairy tale is real. The fairy tale changes my life. The fairy tale isn’t an alternate ending, it is my only beginning, my only now and the only conclusion I would ever want.

So when Nicodemus ponders on the comical answers there will be tragedy as the time bomb of His words go off like a big bang when you least expect it. Tragedy when realisation dawns and opportunities remain un-grasped. The story isn’t about Nico at all, it’s about me. It’s for everyone who dares and wishes to engage. It’s a mirror. What do I see? A comedy, A tragedy or a fairy tale?

wax August 21, 2009

Night. Dark, the world shrinks as the Sun makes its way to the next shift. Like a photographers developing bath, the sky scape slowly reveals twinkling stars. Houses almost vanish, their presence barely maintained by television flicker and breaks in the curtains. Country lanes disappear altogether, tossed into diminishing scrutiny as vehicles stab the road with their full beams. City skylines lose their tailored architectural edges, replaced by loose fit soft commercial lighting. Industrial illumination cradles a city, almost sparkling like glass that catches the sunlight.

A moment. Stop. These evening sparkles sustained by global grids are powering the illusion. Actually the night scene dramatically changes without artificial intervention. The world would slow down. People would slow down. Life would slow down. A few fires dotted around, embers so light that they believe they can fly to heaven in a glowing burst.

This is real, to experience the seasons because we engage in the change of smell, light, soil, weather, crops, flowers, tides. All the things that a city needs to be reminded of. All the things our lives need to be reminded of.

Night. Dark, the world shrinks. Shrinks to nothing except a flame, a light, a word that grew, a word that entered the world through a unique door. A word that became flesh. The big bang at the beginning, spiritually repeated when He entered into the world and marked every evening as darkness advances and the stars explode.

Night, a time for me to remember that Hope set foot into this world when the contrast was at its greatest. A night sky full of stars. It’s easier to see the stars against blackness. Darkness is full of hope that I can see. Night time, brings me hope.

Wanted August 20, 2009

The Magi knew where to find Him. The outcasts knew where to seek Him. The broken hearted knew where to listen to Him. The sick knew where to be healed by Him. The women knew where not to look and even Judas knew where to betray Him.

The disciples, who should have known Him the best, acted as if they knew Him the least. Losing their heads, slicing off ears, betrayal and denial. The ones who saw more miracles and heard more stories than anyone else, still didn’t know where to find Him.

Hope comes to those seeking it. A call to belief, an engagement with life, with Him. The Magi would never have left to see the child with no hope. Matthew’s house would have been a lot quieter if the outcasts didn’t believe they would be spiritually and socially touched. The crowds gathered to hear Him because they had faith. Belief. Hope.

A hopeless situation is one where hope is rejected from the outset. With no hope, it is impossible to find Him. A molecule of hope is all that is needed to begin the journey from distortion to gem stone, it is all that is needed to find a precious pearl, to find a lost coin, to avoid the empty tomb and seek Him amongst the living, not in a cemetery.

Ear August 19, 2009

A Comedy. So far from the reality that one is left with the option of laughing or crying because the situation has already exceeded life capacity. Comical because imagination has been captured and a new way of doing life has been designed. Comedy because its funny. Simple. Different. Life giving.

A Tragedy because after we laugh, we cry. Tragic because we are expecting to laugh but there is no punch line. Tragic because the new way of life steers totally out of control.

A fairy tale because the ending is spectacular. The resolve is tremendous. The hope restored. Back in Kansas with Toto. A fairy tale because after the tragedy there is nowhere left, somehow a new world is birthed where there wasn’t one earlier that day. Somehow the parameters of life itself are stretched so far that a spiritual big bang occurs. Hope bursts onto the scene like a million stars. A new world, a fairy tale.

A comedy, a tragedy and a fairy tale. The hallmarks of Him.

The comedy of heavily armed guards turning up to a prayer garden in order to arrest a preacher. I start laughing at the excess, the hyperbole. This is lunacy. Like a scene from Terry Gilliam’s Brazil, Buttle instead of Tuttle, the laughter however, begins to fade as the consequence of the overkill begins to fall like snow on cedars.

A tragedy because the guards seize Him and this becomes a dark hour, a tragedy because His followers scatter, lose their heads, betray with a kiss. A tragedy because swords are raised, an ear is sliced off, hope seems further away. In the midst of the dark garden, in the midst of the dark hour, there comes a mini fairy tale. One that profoundly illustrates the outstanding work still to be done. The twist is when the guard who came to arrest Him is being healed by Him. The guard who came to snatch Him is being restored by Him. The guard, who belonged to the army, that came to take His life has just had it given back. Caught up in an army, in humanity, I advanced like the guard. I shuffled along until one day I got hurt so badly that I fell, clutching my ear. That’s when it happened. The parameters of my world gave way. A bigger bang. A new world. A new life. A comedy, a Tragedy, a Fairy Tale.

trainspotting August 18, 2009

Live generously. Is there a better way to live? Generous with time, money, hope, expectations, life. My challenge is to be generous regardless of the recipient. Its easy to be generous to folk who I would choose to be generous to. Not wanting to be a doormat but becoming a heart to serve. To give with transparency and with creativity. To give, not as slave with a big star stitched onto rags, but as a human being, a soul inhabiting the real estate of hope.

His life like the bottle of perfume she pours out, generously, extravagantly, wastefully. His life emptied out, every drop shaken out, bottle tossed away, finished. It is over. It has begun, a new life. Like a URL of hope embeded  into humanity, there for all to actively seek, engage with. His life like the story itself, grace, mercy and hope.

The distortion birthed in a moment of naked realisation. The introduction of fear into life happened after deception. The first fear was swiftly pursued by the first shame. Almost hand in hand. Since that moment the distorted grew more distorted, since that moment the twisted became more twisted.

It must come as no surprise that He wanted to address fear. He made sure the message was not lost. Do not worry.

I have been waiting to be found. With a lost property tag, brown paper with string looped through my lapel. Next to a soft toy bear. To be found is a celebration. A party. To be found is to start a long journey back home again. To be found is igniting the process from distortion to gem stone. Missing coins or lost sheep. I have found them all. I have been found.

In its most extreme, exclusion denies existence as a human being. Inclusion was always on His agenda. That irritated the religious people. They wanted the good stuff for the people that subscribed to the good stuff journal. He said, Believe in it, don’t subscribe.

Hope is for all not just those subscribe to religious lives, and in fact sometimes they miss the boat entirely. Hope is for all. Everyone is invited. Everyone.