unended

some hoped, some expected, some feared, some jeered … but so far it looks like it will all pass over uneventfully … except for the residue of the experience which will very possibly last a lot longer than the memory of the event in our lives – if only subconsciously perhaps.

on sunday morning many who in the secret place of hope and fear in their hearts who believed it would all end, or even hoped it were the truth, will most probably agree with those who scoff saying that they knew all along that it was not true … but inside?

a lot of what we believe is determined not by faith but by the apparent facts that seem to manifest around us and are either ratified or denied by the other mortals we associate with.  perhaps we may choose to deny it but to my mind it’s a very social gospel we live by – one that is rooted so much more in the natural than the spiritual or eternal.

me, i think i’m with those whose hopes were dashed

perhaps a fair amount of those who secretly hoped the world would end are those who really qualify – and perhaps by default – for a true spiritual faith?  perhaps they hoped not because of a theology or intelligence this way or that but because they are suffering in some way or another? – financially, emotionally, physically?  perhaps they are extremely lonely even in the crowd and the laughter?  perhaps just the thought of being taken out of here is such an attraction?  perhaps they truly feel like aliens in this harsh and cruel world?  they might not be able to admit it publicly but they may feel like they are unloved, lonely, desperate with very few to tell about it let alone understand.  perhaps these people long for a reboot of the whole damn thing?  for some a total change, however drastic and costly would be such welcome relief?  my faithful scepticism tends towards their world – especially at times like these.

for many of the brazen and outspoken, those who verbosely quote chapter and verse and pontificate on what the latest apostle/prophet/preacher/author last published … well, they too have fears and doubts – only their inner fears won’t allow them to acknowledge it.  but they feel safe inside their own minds because in this modern era volume is believed to be the all powerful answer

what is it about us that so easily wishes on things? why is it so easy for us to be effected by this kind of stuff?

as my blogname suggests, i am a faithful skeptic.  My views are not at all acceptable by the mainstream out there yet i too have a belief system and an extremely strong one at that.  this is what impacts me so greatly.  for me, having an extremely strong faith is not an achievement at all – as much as romantic love for another is not an achievement.  it just happens and we are swept along by it.  it tends to consume us.  and it leaks out for all except usually ourselves to see.  me, i am mostly shocked by my beliefs.  i have grown comfortable with them not because they are correct necessarily but because they are mine and they are all I have.  i doubt a lot and never stop questioning, but i cannot shake off my beliefs.  they sort of consume me

so, it looks like the world may not end today and for some this may very well be the end of their world

there is a song penned by phil keaggy long ago that has made an indelible impact on my thinking ever since i first heard it sung. the opening lyrics go something like this,

“who will speak up for the little ones?

hopeless and half abandoned

they’ve got a right to choose

life they don’t want to lose

i’ve got to speak up, won’t you?”

he was writing on the abortion issue as far as i can recall but it is nevertheless equally true for the lonely, the suffering, the desperate, those in despair and hopelessness, those whose personal reality clashes so dramatically with the theology and meme-artistry around them.

who will speak up for such as these?

me, i tend towards being brazen and self-possessed … but i’ve got quieten down a whole lot and speak up – won’t you?

a riddle in the middle

it is said that no one can see the face of God and live

•

and we were given

eyes to see

hands to touch

a mind to question

a questioning mind

•

and there was a garden

•

and there were two trees in the middle

there were many others too

all pleasing to the eye and good for food

but only two were in the centre

at the heart of it all

in the middle

•

two in the middle

and herein lies the riddle

two trees in one?

or one tree in two?

•

access forbidden!!

on pain of death

•

a mystery

death?

and now we know

or so we think

•

the eyes saw pleasing sights

good things

but that was not enough

it seemed

•

a second glance

confirmation was secured

the desire for wisdom was also thrown in

and then there were three

•

and the eyes were opened

really opened

and death smiled

a single, deep smile

•

a double death

twice dead

or was it two sides that died

two sides of the same death

•

what was

was not anymore

and what had become

was no longer attractive

repulsive in fact

repulsive facts

•

and then

we became like God

knowing good and evil

•

community shattered

friendship ruined

words spoken

decisions made

lest we reach out our hand

and eat

from life in death…

lest we live forever

dead

•

banished

•

the face of God was seen

and death came alive

•

the fullness of God revealed – both sides

as was the fullness of death – both sides

and the fullness of man – both sides

•

and darkness

hovered

over the surface of the deep

•

two eyes

two hands

two trees

two beings

two deaths

_____________

so who do you sleep with when you’re alone?

My wife is away for a few days so I’m sleeping alone.

I woke up on Thursday morning after a fairly short but deep and intense sleep.  I assumed this because the other half of the bed where my wife usually lies was still perfectly made up with only my side showing the regular albeit less than normal evidence of my having been there.  I had clearly fallen asleep and never moved much at all until I awoke.

On the way to school on this same morning my son had an accident on his scooter.  He collided with the car in front of him in the heavy traffic.  The scooter took a real beating as did my son and I am grateful that he only collided with one car.  He’s ok thankfully, getting away with only minor scratches and bruises.  If the scooter could speak I’m sure the story would be an interesting one.  But it could have been much worse.  I could have lost him – in fact, I could have collided with his absence every day for the rest of my life.  To get a phone call at 7am in the morning can sometimes really mess with your equilibrium.  It was a turbulent day of emotionally mixed metaphors.

On Friday and Saturday morning I woke up with the duvet almost completely off the bed and heaped in a mangled mess.  It looked like someone had had a full-on battle on the bed during the night.  My wife cannot be blamed this time – she only gets home tomorrow and I was alone both nights.  Even my 13 year old daughter who usually relishes the privilege of plundering my personal space when her mom is away slept in her own room.

So who was I sleeping with whilst I was alone?  And the battle?  What was I saying?  What was happening,  and who was it happening with?

The mysteries of duvet politics.

life and death in the balance

life and death, death and life

strange characters these

one appears dark

the other appears light

though they may appear so,

are they mutually exclusive?

or are they two ends of the same piece of string?

or maybe alter egos on the altar of space and time?

both have been personalized as well as depersonalized

either way they appear clearly as migrant morphs

melting in and out of character

merging into each other

even the contrast each gives us illuminates the other

a concept one day, a person the next

a friend, a foe

a beginning and an end

the end of a beginning

or the beginning of an end?

personally, I wrestle with this all the time

this disturbing little idea has a deep and turbulent history

you see, I passionately seek life all the time

but quite honestly, I must acknowledge that I really don’t know what it is, or what it looks like

sometimes I seek death … the concept much more than the person that is….

or at least, I hope so

there are many who claim they know what life is, what it’s all about,

but quite frankly for me it’s really one of those improvable things

there are few test tubes that can hold the solution

I have my views, you have yours

but at best I think we can only hold opinions

and yes, there are many who have strong beliefs this way or that about what it is….

life and death, death and life, ….

but that’s the strange thing about beliefs …. they are beliefs

now I believe that there is nothing wrong with believing

in fact believing, or faith as we call it

… is perhaps life itself?

and maybe life itself is just faith?

…. believing

maybe it’s all we have really …

but then again …

perhaps believing is also death itself – ask any martyr

but for me, to pitch tent and camp in a belief

… to declare it to be life, reality, truth or any such absolute is ….

… as sincerely as you wish …

… well, it’s what we all tend to do

and in the end, some of us may or may not be more accurate than the others

but one thing that does happen when we lock on

when we put down roots

… is that it tends to cause us to stop believing

…. and that in itself could be death

so we are back again to life and death, death and life

and there are some things I have come to consider:

I have come to consider that death always precedes life
and life drags death along as a shadow

but death also returns the favour

and there are some questions too:

… when we first arrived

at birth, when life began for us …

what death preceded that?

strange sojourners these two
witnesses to a journey
witnesses of a journey

companions in arms

armed in companionship

and strange as it may seem
…  perhaps friends and not foes?

and yes, maybe we do have to pitch a tent somewhere …

but perhaps we don’t have to use steel tent pegs and a concrete base

153?

…. there is the account in the twenty first chapter of the gospel of John of the miraculous catch of large fish. They were out fishing after being devastated that their hero and saviour had been brutally beaten and murdered.  They had fished all night and caught nothing and in the morning they saw someone standing on the shore who shouted out to them, “have you any fish?” to which they answered “no.” This man then told them to cast the net on the right side of the boat and that they would then catch some fish. For some reason they did so and surprisingly caught a large catch. It was then that they saw it was Jesus. The details in the gospel account states that the net had to be dragged ashore and that the net was not torn even though being extremely full of many ‘large fish’. The number of fish caught in the miraculous catch was given specifically as 153.

One could ask, why not 152 or 154 or an even 150, or even “over 100”?

Surely even “a large number of fish” would have been more than sufficient and would in no way have undermined or detracted from the gravity of the event?

153?