Twisted

Written as a submission to Dallas Art House in response to this year's Origin theme 'On Darkness.'

I’ll make it mine”, age-old thought in a little boys’ brain,

Child’s plaything, magnifier.

I can feel its smooth leather pouch,

In my pocket,

It channels the sun, what twig and beetle burned,

Now burns in me.

“That girl is fine,” A king whose lust won’t be tamed,

Smokin sweet, trophy wife.

Baby you’re going to get lucky,

On my mattress.

From Adams’ rib both lips and breasts satisfy,

And makes hungry

“I’ll be divine,” A creature who wants just to reign,

Proud cherub, anointed.

Your god only wants you happy,

Comes the whisper.

The Liar promises life in taste and tree,

Whose fruit is death.

“I am the vine,” cure the sick and heal the lame,

Whore lover, law breaker.

Cannibal? You said eat your flesh,

To come alive.

Nail in bone for boasts of God their fury spent,

The cost for me.

Photo by Mick Haupt on Unsplash

How Bad The Fall

                                                  

How bad the Fall must have been. If the first cut is the deepest; how great the gash that severed all flesh. Angel and flaming sword separating us. The tale sung in aeons. Angel Eve, can you bring us back to Eden? So sweet and simple we were. Freely tasting all we were offered; unashamed by the wetness on our lips. Flowing as one.  

Why call it a fall at all? Simple bite of the forbidden? So it’s portrayed. No, rather a spit in the face; fist flung in the air. As lovers encompass one another; so we were encompassed by our Lover. Was it the flesh of the fruit I wanted so badly? Oh to know good and evil! How did we not know how safe and secure we were?

Though I love my fellow man it is easy to see the cracks and fissures emanating from that first fist flung high. Broken at every juncture. It’s genetic or it’s the way we were raised. Self-soothing every way. We can barely connect with ourselves. Our children at war to find their selves. The line of good and evil flows into our progeny. Children born bereft of innocence. In search of the perfect meme.

The voice of Abel’s blood crying out, “Can you bring us back to Eden?” the line stretches down the ages as another cries out. How great the fall that even perfect blood in perfect sacrifice didn’t set all right again. Certainly death the most horrible. Yet how harrowing the expulsion.

Aching pain, unrelenting emptiness and a reaching out only to grasp nothing. This is the pain of the first break up. Producing the fear of ever giving yourself away again. Not surprising then how difficult to let ourselves be loved. Though the destination is future we fight healing in the present. We are scarred visibly from that first encounter. No wonder that we do not give to the Scarred One unreservedly.

How bad the fall must have been. Eden awaits. We have run from Eden even as Eden was wrung away from us. Now we are living in this present place. How easy that first laugh; embrace, and release of self. Bending to believe it was all about me. How much work to learn to love. To give of self to another. To come out of darkness. To be loved by The Lover. The fall was great. The adventure into fulness; reclaiming what was lost; the greater adventure.

Photo by Andrik Langfield on Unsplash

Pursuing Passion

Central to Blue Bloods main character, Frank Reagan, is a poster of Teddy Roosevelt on his office wall. Frank’s key strength, affirmed by Blue Bloods 12 seasons, is conviction that, “The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood…” Its 6.11 million viewers give nod to the quote. To find your life you must lose it.

“Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen,” as Brene Brown shares. Scary stuff being seen; being known. I have caverns that conceal all kinds of dark. Fantasies I don’t share. Arrogance always. Ah, Pharisee. Funny thing: when I am vulnerable it deepens relationship. 99% of the time when sharing a struggle others admit their own.

The one percent? My previous marriage. Being seen was used for blackmail. All of us have wounds. Hence the call to courage. We desire depth. With God, with friend. All of us yearn for passion. We won’t get there without pain. “From silken self, O Captain; free thy soldier who would follow thee.”

“Who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming…” I get in the way. There are days that my love and passion for my wife are blurred by selfish acts and stupid detours. My daughter tells me I didn’t hug her enough growing up. Don’t give up-press in! Do what it takes; get counselling, cry out to community, cry to Jesus, cry period.

The story is told of a man who hired a guide to get to the top of a beautiful mountain. The guide told him he could take little to the top; only himself and his courage. But the man said, “I am bringing with me blankets, I am bringing chocolate. I’m bringing fear and shame.” Along the way to the top were scattered all these things. The man never made it to the top. He stopped in the plain half-way up and pitched his tent. Many pitch their tent on the plain. And the plain is so very full of tents.

“if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."

Finding Healing In Impossibility

“A man was there who had been ill for thirty-eight years.  When Jesus saw him lying there, and knew that he had already been a long time in that condition, He said to him, “Do you wish to get well?”

“From where I lay to the healing pool it’s fifteen feet of impossibility.  Day after day I lay here.  I plan the way to get to the water when it is stirred up.  Each time I begin to crawl and every time somebody beats me to the water.  Some are able to walk on in.  Some have a close friend or family to put them in.  I am bereft of help and relationship.  I will never be healed.  I can think of no other options.  In every direction there is only darkness. 

How agonizing to be so close yet never make it.  Day after day for years on end.  I have tried everything; crying, screaming, begging and bleeding but nobody would lend a hand.  I will never make it crawling on my own.

I've cursed God.  How could I not?  God had provided others with help.  Heck, God had allowed others to live healthy lives.  I can’t remember health.  Musing leads to bitterness, bitterness to self-pity, pity to self-loathing and God cursing.  Still I focus on the pool and its’ healing water.

Sometimes it takes years to break a man; once in a while it happens quickly.  I’ve had a long time to reflect on my sin.  Boatloads of sin.  Throw in the cursing and I’m done for.  Someday maybe I’ll walk.  My spirit never will.  God will never forgive me.” 

Jesus singled out this man.  He said to him, “Do you wish to get well?”  The sick man replied, “Sir, I have no man to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up…”  “Why are you asking me this?  Yes, can’t you see how I long to get to the water?  But I can’t!” I say it, gripped with emotion.”

Jesus said to him, “Get up, pick up your pallet and walk.”  Later on Jesus tells the man, “Behold, you have become well; do not sin anymore so that nothing worse happens to you.”

          

The final kicker is that the man had spent many years focused on the water and it wasn't the water that healed him.  In the full context there’s a larger point to the story.  I see a great lesson here in the smaller scale.  The man focused on the water and almost missed Jesus.  Still Jesus stepped into his life and solved his impossible situation.  There’s hope there.  Even if my focus is wrong God can walk in and fix my impossible situation.