Worlds

I just encountered a rather mind-blowing concept that I need to write out to process.  It is significant because it comes from a direction I have consistently been opposed to, which gives it credibility against my biases.

Without belaboring the background, suffice to say I do not believe that reductionism is the key to undertanding.  Things are greater than the sum of their parts.  Experience is not reduceable simply to chemical impulses in the brain and bio-physio responses.  But from that direction comes the concept of gene-culture interaction.

This author I'm reading recognizes that environment and genetics, nature and nurture, are inextricably linked.  But here's the kicker.  He points out that any attempt to overly encourage one factor over the other would be devastating.  For example, he says if we had a totally controlled society that required everyone to be equal in ability and performance, giving intensive assistance to the lower performers and holding back the higher performers (e.g. every child goes to college), the result would be that both segments' environments would not allow them to develop genetic potential and variation would be lost, thus genetically reinforcing a loss of ability and variation.  This type of society and it's ills have been described in countless movies and books, so I won't go on.

But on the other side, if we had a totally egalitarian society such that every child was allowed to fully explore their gifts and fully supported in achieving them (no-schooling), genetic heritability would increase to the point that the same societal abuses occur.  It would be caste and feudal system to the ultimate degree in which people truly were born to be something and could not improve their lot.

In either case, you end up with a totalitarian society.  The two ends of the spectrum are really neighboring points on a circle.  Like Fascism and Communism, though ideologically polar opposites, they produce societies that are very similar; both abusive and controlling.

This is not new, really.  Both sides have been treated extensively in literature and cinema.  But what did hit me was the idea that we NEED in a fundamental and very real sense, adversity and diversity, not just in happy hippie self-help ways, but in gritty biological ways.

As a Christian who thoroughly believes in the sovereignty of God and orchestration on the universe, this explanation from a staunchly atheist and materialist quarter fairly solves the question of why bad things happen and why inequality persists.

Perhaps we're looking at it all wrong (what else is new).  If God is sovereign and good yet bad things persist, it must be because those things we perceive as bad are actually in some way good.  It's our definition that's wonky.  Not bad, but perhaps unpleasant, inconvenient, even painful.  But still good.

Now I hear myself starting to sound like Candide's teachers, and I'm not about to start arguing for the 'best of all possible worlds'.  That's as absurd today as Voltaire portrayed it in the 18th century.  I'm also not going to say that we shouldn't work to eliminate wrong and injustice.  Evil is evil and should be stamped out.  What I'm saying is that it doesn't follow that a kid born in a poor area should get a total hand out to bring him to the level of a rich kid.  Neither does it follow that imposing no limits so everyone can 'be free' to follow their whims will lead to healthy people and society.  What I'm saying is that fighting, struggling, dying, suffering, and going without while others go with is not necessarily bad.  It's just how our habitat works.  There is no such thing as a necessary evil, but adversity is not necessarily evil.

It is necessary to promote genetic potential and actually helps make the environments required for us to grow into what we were made to be.  Adversity must occur and succor must be provided just like zebras eat grass and lions eat zebras and hyenas eat lions and all turn back into grass.  A life lost or a case of suffering is to be mourned and helped, but eliminating the condition that led to the suffering is not in our power because it ultimately wouldn't be for our good.  Like all ecology, it's the principle of balance.  Ecology, as a nonreductionist science, a holistic science in the truest sense of the word, allows us to understand the nature of God imprinted in our world.  We can trace the hand of God, see the trails of his garments.  It's really sublime.


But don't dare take what I'm saying and use it to justify your system or even to form opinions about how the world should work.  The only conclusion to be drawn from this is that we can't, shouldn't, and don't really run the world anyway.  And I'm now more than ever convinced that the one who does is way better at it than we could be.  Our purpose is not to take our place as gods, but to rise to our place within God's living relation.

Flow

How do I start?
I want to impart
what's in my heart
using this art.

It's not new
but I bet you
didn't know I could flow.

But long ago
that's where I started
while my words were still retarded
by fresh eyes
that just began to see lies
and understand pain.
I first turned to verse
to nurse the fresh wounds of the curse,
of my generation
the first to feel the denegration,
separation,
denunciation
of the structures that promised to hold us
mold us
enfold us,
but instead began to drain...
me.

You see...
I'm twisted
and most of you missed it
because I hide it deep inside
buried alive.
That's why I gave it up.
Poetic words, rhythmic sounds abound with too much emotion.
If words are an ocean, then this is the wave
rollin at such a speed
it'll touch where I bleed
too fast and I'll stumble.
But no crutch for me.
That's like a cane
and a cane is one step from the grave.
So I bottled the rain...
deeper inside
me.

But today it came back.
I don't know why.
Out of the black
deep inside.
Rising up unbidden
flowin and goin and showin me things I had hidden.

And most of all
I long for a place to be raw
something real
sharp as steel
to cut these bonds and let me heal.

But God knows I've tried
to join, create, remold, and strive
only to be repaid dirt for gold...
you all lied.

You're doin it now!
You don't know
how fake you are
and your show
that does nothing for what I, he, she, we
really need.

Is it greed?
Or pride or self-love?
Or maybe pain.

That's it
isn't it?
Can you admit
You're stuck in your shit
just like me.
So full of yourself
and scared, crying for help
you can't see another or let them in.


You say, "Brother be open.
You're so broken"
But you're jokin
'cause I've been there in your house
while your daughter was openin'
her mouth
swallowin all those...
lies.
Fed to her by guys
and everyone she "knew"
was a cry for help to YOU
who weren't there.

She's broken and so are you and me and that other guy too.
Let me tell you about him...ALL of us "Christians"
who say they will and they want
to share a thing in your heart
and in the same breath call me passive aggressive
but that's impressive
comin' from you
who leave ME standing in parking lots callin' your phone
'cause you conveniently forgot that I was comin'
dude it was... YOUR HOME!

Or like your other bother
who gave me grief for drivin kids on my own
and then left me standin' alone
on the side of the road
with a pukin' kid and his new best friends wearin' his guts.
And you waved!
Waved and you knew!
Waved like I'm nuts
wonderin' why
I'm just some guy
stoppin' my car so you can fly by.
And you knew the kid was sick
and said nothing.
But I'm the big dick
who can't forgive 'cause, "we'll pay the cleaner guy."
No thanks dude.
You owe me what you gave me...
nothing.

God, it makes me sick.

And everyone wonders what will work
makin plans
buildin dreams
when all around are guys like me
just lookin for you
to be true
to what... you... say.

We should forgive? Gladly, ask away!
I promise you pardon
cause I just want it to stop.
But you won't will you?
No you're heart's too hardened
Hard and puffed up (what does that sound like Jock)
on the praise of your deeds
or your ego
or whatever your trip is.
You won't ask for forgiveness
but you'll sure get offended.
Call me and up end it
in a verbal tussle.
Face it, you'd love to muscle
the broken man down
and call that... faith...defended.

But there has to be a better way
If this is all we got,
I don't want to play.
Been there, man
I can say,
it's a dark place
and I know the taste
of my own blood.
and the barrel of a gun.

I'm not goin to wrap this
in some tight package
of how good God or life is.
I don't know
I'm just a lost soul
with a big mouth
a dark mind
and lots of hidden wreckage.
And I want to be done.

I don't know, but I have desired.
If I can dream somethin better
that stokes the fire.
If there's a chance God is real
then dreams might be inspired.

So that's how I'll head
through the hate
and the pain.
And I dread if I'm wrong
but I can't think that I am.
There's either nothing behind
or my soul's already damned.

So the one chance I've got
to escape tasting shot
is to become what I'm not
to let go of the rot-
ten fruit you keep shovin at me.  I am not
going... to... play.

Gospel

OK.  So this is such a hard topic, that I just wrote a screen full of paragraphs and deleted them all.

Here's the difficulty distilled.  If the Gospel is such good news that people would change their lives from it, change their personalities, go to very gruesome deaths over it, why don't I feel that way about it?  Truth is I don't.  I feel like I should.  But I just don't. 

So let's break down the possibilities. 

1. I am broken such that I am having an inappropriate reaction.

Possible.  I could be mentally damaged in a way that I can't perceive this correctly.  Problem is it's for all people.  So if I can't perceive it appropriately, there's nothing I can do about it, and further discussion is pointless.  I'll either be excused by a good God or condemned for it by an evil one.

2. I am so sinful that it's beyond me.

I thought this for many years.  It led to constant searching, anxiety, self-hatred, and extreme asceticism that even adversely affected my health.  Many of the Mystics started here too and I had clung to them as brothers and sisters in a struggle.  But here's the thing.  Some of them left that life after coming to believe God didn't want them to harm themselves in attempts to cleanse the wicked.

I have to agree here because I also feel the same way.  There was no joy in it, and joy is supposed to be a fruit of the Spirit.  Plus, if I step outside myself and look as objectively as I can, I'm seeking far more than many other people who feel the joy and love the Truth.  Many don't ever even enter such a crisis of existence.  So explaining that could force me to brimstone preaching if I go the Armenian route since they're all dead in their transgressions and marching straight to hell and I should shock them into reality.  Or else I slip into pride or despair on the Calvinist side, since I'm either one of the elect or not, as you choose to interpret the attitude.

3. There is no Gospel.

Tempting.  But I've been down this route before.  It ends in nihilism.  If there is no real truth, then my highest and best faculties are illusions and there are no consequences except to cease being, which doesn't matter anyway.  I am forced into hedonistic abandon as I try to get the most pleasure out of my meaningless life or more usually for nihilists, into despair as no matter of effort makes any real difference.

Of course there's all kinds of outposts where people stop short, such as the progeny concept where our goal is to preserve the species as a whole.  But this ignores individual suffering and identity, and worst of all, still slides quickly to nihilism when I realize that the drive to preserve the species is also a biological illusion...WHY is it good to preserve the species.  The word 'good' ceases to have real meaning...hence the reason nihilists tip toward despair.

Or if 'good' is a real thing, I'm back into objective Truth, and we go back to 1 or 2.

4. I've got the Gospel wrong.

Obviously, I left this for last because this is what I have concluded.  It comes to me over many centuries of writing, from many places, and from many directions that are unrelated to each other.  But this is where I am.  I've had it wrong.  I've been taught it wrong. 

So this leads to the question, what IS the gosepl then?  When I think about what makes me stay a Christian.  What makes me bubble over with joy.  What makes tears stand in my eyes.  What I can't help but share and what I would...seriously would easily go to my death or torture before I deny it.  It isn't any of the things I was taught in Sunday school...man, threaten to seriously start flaying my skin off alive and frying me in a giant hot pan (this has really happened) I'm probably going to find a way to reason out of most anything I learned to recite...I'm just telling you the truth.

But what I won't deny is that God loves each and every one of us.  Dearly deeply loves us.  He doesn't condemn.  He heals.  He doesn't want rule followers.  He doesn't want political duty.  He doesn't want Christians who make Christians (whatever that means was never clearly defined; sorry bro that's why we parted ways).  He wants children that climb up in his lap.  He wants a whole family of people who love each other and live in respect and not just pretend, but really truly fulfill the needs in each other.  It's not a fake it till you make it thing.  It's not a man-up thing (Geez, don't get me started on that one).  What he wants is simple, honest, goodness.  God never left us.  He never turned away from us.  Nothing is too big for him.  All wrongs will be righted.  All wounds will be healed, no matter who you are, where you are from, or even what you mistakenly believe.  Because the real Truth IS irresistible.  Who wouldn't want to fall into the arms of the perfect love and peace.  ALL of us all over the planet, no matter who, when, where, or how, know this.  I read the Bible this way.  I see Jesus as epitomizing this.  It doesn't deny other religions, it subsumes them.  I see this idea truly revolutionizing the world.  Not always under the flag of Christianity, but in a steady progression of higher and higher societal ideas which are large scale mirrors of individual ideals.

It makes me change my ways...I want to be good.  BE good, not just SEEM good.  I am free to give of myself because I know it matters and will only generate more good.  I want to tell others so they can be freed from the fears and hurts they have.  I want to help HEAL those hurts, even if it means taking some of them on myself, and thus I participate in God's work.  This is a message I would take to the ends of the earth.

And as much as it scares the living sense out of me, I'd just have to be flayed if you wanted me to say anything otherwise because denying that real Goodness and Love exist is to turn suffering brothers and sisters into more pain than you can give me.  And that I just can't do.  THAT's GOSPEL.

Missed

I am reading a modern book right now (yeah I do read modern ones sometimes).  It's by Daniel Quinn, whom I've mentioned before.  He wrote Ishmael, which is one of my favorite books.  Then he further developed the ideas in the book I'm reading now called The Story of B, and others to follow.

I read Ishmael back in the 1990's and it opened my eyes to a new way of seeing and thinking.  Then later, I read the sequel, My Ishmael, which is actually third in written order.  I liked this one nearly as much as the first book.  I'd skipped B because the plot sounded questionably interesting and was only tangentially in the storyline of the other two.

I don't agree with everything Quinn says, his history is often in error, and his philosophical/logic skills are often faulty.  But I have practised being able to "eat the meat and spit out the bones" as a friend says, so that doesn't bother me if there's good to be had in it.  But then I decided to pick up B.  It's terrible.

I get the distinct sense that Ishamel may have received such a bad reaction that Quinn went a little "Moses striking the rock".  I've seen that with other storytellers that have a message, but this one is just not good.  It's too full of sour grapes and brow-beating ideas.  As he mentions in the book itself, this time he's taking a different approach.  He shouldn't have.  But as I don't do book reviews, I'm going to leave it at that, and focus on my reactions.  If you want more, read it yourself, then we can talk.

The biggest flaw in Quinn's vision, as portrayed in the book, is that it's a reaction to an entirely phantom image of Christianity.  He seems to have a certain idea of Christianity, which I've seen practised by many self-styled Christians.  But he doesn't recognize that this may or may not be a correct view, nor that there are other interpretations that are almost diametrically opposed to this view within the diversity of Christendom.

If Christianity was what he portrays it: a sort of Dan Brown-esque conspiracy laden jumble of contradictions to dupe simpletons, which any thinking-person ought to be able to see for what it is, I would hate it too.

But here's the kicker: his alternative is very much the Christianity I know and follow!  He just attempts to rebrand it as a universal animism.  Even the strict conservative Christianity I was raised in had many of the elements he seems to be seeking in his reconstructed nature-based religion.

For example, in B he propounds that every place is sacred, every living thing.  That all are interconnected and that in a real sense, they all live out their lives in the hand of the god.  He makes a distinction that he doesn't mean the all-powerful creator God, but the less distinct animus of the single place.

Well, my understanding of the Bible is exactly this, except of course that the deity is the universal Good, the all-powerful God.  Which is very much more to his point, I think.  Coming from the obvious Hippie perspective he originates in, the Universe (which he actually refers to at one point) is by definition ONE thing.  If all life is part of this big ONE thing.  Why divide that into myriad animi of place?  Wouldn't the world itself be one thing as much as all things in it are one?  If there is an animus of each of the small expressions of the one, how much more a single grand Animus in which all the others were collected, reflected, and imagined?

In fact, I know many Christians that actually do operate in a worldview of lesser spiritual beings guarding and shepherding places and activities.  The Romantics, and even CS Lewis routinely referred to these beings as part of their cosmos.

So what is to be gained by stepping so insistently outside of Christianity as Quinn tries?  A sense of place?  Heck, I know more Christians that HEAVILY venerate places, even natural ones, than those that don't.  Even to the point that I think it's silly, since obviously one place is no better than another IN ITSELF.  As Quinn agrees, ALL places are sacred.  To me this is so only because of the presence of God in them, not any aspect of the atoms, as such, in that locale.  So my prayers are no better heard in one spot over another. Like the Centurion praised for his faith that Jesus didn't have to come to his house to heal someone.

I've seen this far too often: someone gets an idea of something locked in their head, especially if it was a bad experience, and they judge all other similar things as that.  This is especially true with Christianity.  This is the very reason I'm so dogged against Christians who knowingly or unknowingly play into these stereotypes.  Because when it comes down to it, the burden of communication is on the communicator.  If someone gets the wrong message from what I say, that's my fault, not theirs.  If for no other reason than I am the one who wants them to hear me.  I can't expect people who aren't asking the question to do the work necessary to get my answer.

But back to the former side, it never pays for us to misjudge, misunderstand.  To understand, we have to listen and explore with openness.  Not to say lack of critical thought, by any means, but with openness.  It also never pays to assume one perspective or case is true for all others.

The ironic thing, is that I learned that in large part FROM Quinn!

Holy Dog

Conscience is the Holy Dog, sent to bite us on the back of the neck that we will fall to the ground before we fall off the cliff.  I am not the Holy Dog, but I know his teeth well.  I am a voice.  A voice for the voiceless.  And my voice is strong.  So on this I will speak and pray the Dog finds his mark.

As we approach the most important day in the Christian calendar, I am confronted by you every year.  You say you love me.  You say you are a safe place to be who I am.  You encourage me to open my deep pain to you and promise that if I only will, I will find what you have and we will be closer.

But I don't know what you have.  I only know what I have, good and bad.  So I look at you, knowing you can be good and bad as well.  I know that you lie.  I see that no one can be what you claim.  I even know more of what you supposedly know than you can imagine and by your actions you confirm to me that you do not know it well, if at all.

You, church, are a sham, a show, a club created to draw me in with promises that touch a sore place only to leave me hollow, more wounded, and drained.  You are a scam.

You love me?  You don't even know me.  If you do, then why do you constantly tell me I am wrong?

We are all wrong sometimes?  Then why do you never admit it?  No I mean candidly, honestly admit it.  When I gave my vacation money that you promised to use to win the City and only used it to renovate your own building, which you have subsequently re-renovated. Did you give it back?  Did you make amends?  Did you admit you were wrong? I never heard another word about it.

When you said you saw something in me and asked me to help because I had a gift, then left me off the schedule and replaced me without a word, was that love, or flattery to fill the gap in your volunteers? I never heard another word about it.

When you built the giant community building that has less people there than before you built it...you know the one.  It's just like the 25 others at 25 other churches across the area that stand less than half full, and certainly none have fulfilled their promise to win the City.  Were you wrong, or mistaken?  When you were offered warning that this would happen and refused to heed it, calling me obstructionist and quencher, were you justified?  I never heard another word about it.

When you openly accused me of error for not giving to your church when in fact I give to another, plus several charities that you knew nothing about, did you restore my honor before others?

When you said you had a message from God for me that turned out to be entirely wrong, were you malicious or mistaken?  I heard nothing about it after that.

When you said it was a safe place then gave me a look of dire shock and quickly changed the subject as soon as I mentioned my pain, did you provide aid?

When you asked me to join your dinner even though I told you I didn't share your beliefs, assuring me it was just friendly dinner, then started a seminar on evangelism, even asking me for money, then yelled at me for asking why you tried to trick me, did you seek restitution before continuing your ministry?

When you put on a brave face to go on with your service, even though you are not at all in a good place. When you faked emotion on the stage and then collapsed in a huff backstage until the next song.  When you told me I can question, can come as I am, that God will reveal, and yet deny me access to your circle unless I sign your covenants.  When you subtly enforce the appearance before I've understood the meaning...

For all these things I call you wrong.  I call you in error.  I call you out.

Doubtless you will say I am ungracious, but in fact, I am far more gracious than you.  I know I have problems and I know you do too.  Even still I want to be your friend.  But when I hurt a friend, I attempt to make it right, not to make excuses.  I don't give sermons on how I am imperfect too and need your forgiveness...I apologize directly for what I've done.  I try to do better.  I take steps to make it right.  You on the other hand, seem more about making enemies than friends.

This is what I say for the voiceless. 

Who are they?  You'll see them Sunday.  They look like they're trying to fit in, but can't.  They look like they don't quite know how you do things?  They have a darkness behind their smile.  Some look like you and some look nothing like you.  But most of them, you'll only see once.  Others, will give you a few more chances.  And many of them have a deeper and truer understanding of the good God that you claim to represent.  Whitewashed tombs!

I am the voice for the voiceless.  The face for the faceless.  I will also be there Sunday.  I look different from you, so that every time you look at me, you are reminded of them.  You'll see that I've heard it before and I'm not buying it.  You'll see the sadness in my eyes for you and the tenderness in my eyes for them.  And then I'll walk away without a word and go hang out with them. And where we are, there will be Church.  Where a genuine affection is shared, there will be Church.  Where a fault is known and born for sake of the other, there will be Church.  Where they bear with differing opinions for sake of friendship, where one friend supports another, where both try to outdo each other in generosity, where no one shies from the pain of others because they know how bad it hurts...THERE will be CHURCH!  Whether you're there or not.

Overflowing

I have been pretty silent here lately.  On the internet in general.  I have seasons here as in everything else.  But I have not stopped contemplating.  Most recently, I had this rolling through my head:

My heart is overflowing with a good theme

     I recite my composition, concerning the King.

My tongue is like the pen of a ready writer.

It's from Psalm 45, but was used in a song by Dominic Balli, and his particular rhythm to it is what I keep singing.  It's called Warrior and is essentially a series of quotes form the Bible about God as a strong force for justice and rescue.  

The video for this song is also one of the best I've ever seen.  The kind that conveys a whole story in the 3 or so minutes of the song.  It's visual poetry.  The video interprets the song into three stories of troubled people needing rescue, a bulimic, a cutter, and an alcoholic.  As the song rises in intensity, the stories reach a climax.  Then the song returns to its original contemplative mood and pans over in the last second to show the three restored people next to the singer.  a perfect resolution to a song and video with so much going on.

As someone who knows first-hand the feelings that lead to these actions, this is especially powerful.  I was a cutter.

SIDEBAR: Like many things, this label can be applied by one on the inside, but not by one on the outside.  To call someone a cutter is to brand them (no pun intended) with a syndrome that further accentuates the underlying issues for the person.  If you aren't one, don't call someone else one.  We're just people with a bad habit and a deep pain.  Same goes for any similar issue.  We don't go around calling people Allergics or Fatties, so be cognizant.  No one wants to be branded with their worst trait, especially if it can't be helped.  And this can't be helped.  If you don't get that, just stop reading now because there is nothing in this post for you but what will make you stumble.

Because of my particular constitution (in the old sense, i.e. my make-up) images of God in this aspect resonate very deeply.  I know more than most my inability and my need.  I know what it is to have a real redemptive, restorative experience.  To really become aware of this universe-wide power beyond comprehension makes me fear in the Sartre sense.  It is too big, too uncontrolled, too unstoppable.  But then to experience this power bend low and flood over me an equally big unconditional love is truly changing...as Isaiah says, it "undoes" me.

The reaction to that is such a deep overflowing love for anyone or anything I see in the same state I was.  I need only a glimpse and the dam of my heart breaks open.  Unfortunately, I can't often let out what is there.  I haven't learned how to let it pour out in a good way.  I know some understand what I mean and even have recognized it in me.  I think we share a mutual overflowing toward each other.

My dream is for a safe place for people like me, like us, to be who we are.  To be able to freely and goodly express what we feel to mutual restoration and benefit.  God show me the way to do this.  And until then, at least, may my sphere of influence be known as this kind.

Faither o' Lichts

Today, I was sitting in church, expecting the usual shallowness and questionable theology.  In front of me was a young man who was obviously disabled. His parents were on either side and doing a great job of lovingly regulating his lack of attention.

I've always had a soft spot for anyone weak or in need. So I exchanged a few smiles and a nod or two with him and began to pray for him throughout the service. I wasn't praying for healing necessarily, but for whatever he needed, whatever his parents needed, and that he would be a blessing and blessed like the blind man I wrote about last.

I couldn't help thinking of the mad laird from George MacDonald's book Malcolm. This character is similarly disabled and quite rejected. But is drawn to understand in what way he can, his purpose and destiny. At one point in the book the laird learns of God as the Father of Lights and latches onto the phrase. Eventually the laird sneaks into a church service where he is not wanted and can't help crying out this name of God. Not knowing where the sound comes from, it creates quite a stir and starts a sort of revival.

The laird repeats the phrase to his death as the only expression of faith he can make. The phrase resonates with me as one who has had many times when words fail. I kept hearing it in my head as I contemplated this boy.

At the end of the service, the pastor made a rare move for him and spoke prophetic encouragement to the congregation. I don't mean some kooky thing, but rather directed truth at us, saying each of us were directly chosen for a purpose, which is a departure from his usual academic expositing style. In the moment I was having, this jumped at me.

Just then, the boy in front of me shot his hands in the air grasping upward. He had not been so dramatic in his movements prior. At that moment, the phrase Faither o' Lichts, in the Scots, reverberated in my mind and I nearly yelled it myself.

The boy's Dad quickly grabbed his arms and lowered them to head off a scene he thought might be coming, and the boy returned to his quiet fidgeting.

But I didn't. I couldn't. I was stifling sobbing heaves and trying hard not to have to walk out of this conservative church with tears streaming down my face.

I made it to the car and broke down. God showed me for the third and most powerful time this week that he is truly everywhere. Nothing escapes his notice or his care. Even when we think we're doing the right thing yet actually stifling him. Even through this young man who no one perceives as capable of teaching us anything. Even in spite of the layers of manmade church crap piled on top of us in attempts to create the experience of greater reality we all need. This boy who is physically incapable of controlling his impulses shames us all in his understanding, and pierces the spring of my dry rock heart in the process.

Faither o' Lichts!!!