9/17/2004

My House!

I moved into my very own place today. I want to love it, and pet it, and squeeze it and call it my pet...oh pretty pet. ahem. Yes, this is the project I have been wanting my whole life. Instead I tackled such impossible feats as remodeling a spouse and changing the mind of everyone I meet. All I ever wanted was something to put love into. I want to see my little studio house grow and change as I put my hand to whatever I choose.

I give inanimate objects attention and affection because I am a mom-type. But the last thing I need to be doing is mothering my friends or passersby. I don't need to get preggers either, gee whiz nods! But I don't want this motherliness to go away, I think it is a healthy thing to nurture. God thinks that, too, obviously because He is providing many safe dependents that aren't going to resent me for changing them. Part of accepting that you can't change others is realizing the power we have to change ourselves. My own behavior is what I choose. I no longer struggle with those things that are beyond my control. I admit that I don't know what I want in the first place! The only thing I know is that I have an intense longing in my heart to see God. "That can be arranged," the villian said as he pulled out his gun. No, really. I want to see Him here in THIS existence. I want to breathe Him and know Him, I want to see Him with the eyes of my eyes. That's what I want.

The clothes are tumbling in the dryer. I am at my mom's relaxing before a busy weekend. I will go back to MY HOUSE to sleep tonight and make coffee in MY HOUSE in the morning and wash my face in MY HOUSE and then drive to work from MY HOUSE. Ok, I know I am only renting it but I am earning this abode with hard labor! That's what gives me the satisfaction. When my back aches and my eyes won't stay open, I can come HOME and get in MY BATHTUB and listen to Jeff Buckley and cry praises to MY LORD before I go to sleep in MY BED. Or I could dive into one of Kierkegaard's mind-mazes of a book, or I can lay on the floor with my ears between my stereo speakers and let my imagination paint pictures with the music, or I can write letters to Kelsye in Japan, or I can meditate on the Holy Words of Jesus. It doesn't matter what I do because I am alone with God and my conscience. Loneliness? Bah! There's no time for lonely. God will lead me to neighbors and brothers whom I will love day after day. He will bring lessons and blessin's day after day. Best of all He will love me day after day!

9/01/2004

Out of Body Experience

Life began for me in a womb. You too. A small fleshy, bloody pod where we were created by proteins. Why, then, do I expect my life to illustrate magical purity and fantastical immortality? What is in a man that decides he is eternal? Could it be that we are created in God's image?

I have such a lofty sense of importance about myself, it's silly. I will sit on my heiny and dream up coincidences and twists of fate that will glorify my existence. I get sucked into artwork as it flickers across my television screen in 356 colors. The inside of a television set is hollow. The only thing communicating to it's window is a cluster of joined wires and lights. I recently ran my fingers along the dusty interior of an old t.v. and felt like I had peaked behind Oz's curtain. But those people that were inside it, they were real! Weren't they? They seemed so real. And all I had to do was press the play button.

What is real, though?
Actors may appear to develop relationships with me and I with them, but they are imaginary. Performers imagining they know their audience and the audience imagines they know their performers but we only know what we have in common. We are taught that production, script, costume, and acting is how we get to know people. And what if they aren't beautiful as the gods of the silver screen? What if they aren't articulate with quips and witty comebacks written by literary artists? What if they are silly and clumsy, ugly and drab, mere servants among a nation that strives to be served? Are they extras? There to be ignored? Maybe they should feel privileged to have brushed past the star of the scene. It's all a stinking illusion and I'm leaving this God-forsaken set. Cut. Print. That's a wrap!

The most real dialogues I have ever had were between me and God Almighty. I place myself against the background of His Truth and I am nothing but a paper doll in comparison. Just being in the presence of Truth brings the movie to an abrupt halt. The crew comes in and drags away the set, strips me of my costume, and shuts off the lights. In the quiet there is no cinematographic beam of moonlight dancing with golden dust or illuminating my face. There is only me and my childlike sense of the Eternal. The mind may put illusions there to defend it's false reality, but my spirit knows better. So I quiet the temporal to catch glimpses of the Eternal.
I stared at my face in the mirror the other day. I had been crying in worship to God, baffled at this machine that is my body. Suddenly I realized, "That's not me!" But it was joy that I felt! Oh the freedom to be eternal! My face is just an aged representation of the genes, atoms, and proteins I was dealt in the womb. This body is not me. This body, this face, this mind; they are all my responsibility to care for while I have them, but they are not who I am. Who and what I am in Christ is something eternal that doesn't burn in the sunlight or sprain it's ankle playing. I am seeing all of it as what it truly is: temporal. It is reality for now, but only temporarily.

Should I then neglect this amazing machine of blood, muscles and bone? No way! I want to give it to God to use as an instrument for His will. I will no longer let it convince me that it is the one true reality. I have taken the back of it off and exposed the mechanics of the illusion. Yes, into it's wires is life and spirit, but that is the only reason why it is significant. Without life and a spirit it would be food for worms. I'll keep it alive by His Spirit. I'll love it as beautiful handiwork of the Father. I will tell Him what He already knows, that I love Him and fall on my face in adoration of Him. What am I, mere creation compared to Him? He is my Father, I belong to Him everyday, every moment.