Devoid

It is seeking refreshment
in an ocean of salt.

It is looking for truth
on a flat, black canvas.

It is lingering hope
in a hangman's knot.

It is piercing one's heart
and all pass by.

It is deep conversation
at a drive-thru speaker.

A life devoid of love
is less than a shadow in a mirror.

And then...

And then, all that has divided us will merge.
And then compassion will be wedded to power
And then softness will come to a world that is harsh and unkind
And then both men and women will be gentle
And then both men and women will be strong
And then no person will be subject to another's will
And then all will be rich and free and varied
And then the greed of some will give way to the needs of the many
And then all will share equally in the Earth's abundance
And then all will care for the sick and the weak and the old...

-Judy Chicago

If we seek only eternal life, our eschatology is too small.

Unless we seek the redemption of relationship, of love, of the church, of God Himself, then we are looking too small.

We must be continually dissatisfied with the earth, continually praying, continually seeking until we find the path of love for all, in all, of all, over all the earth. 

If we only seek heaven, our eschatology is too small.  Remember, Satan was in heaven until he was thrown out, seeking the judgment and hatred of even the most righteous man on earth. Heaven itself must be redeemed. It is not enough to be placed in the spirit realm.  We must long for eternal love in all places, even places that cannot be reached from earth except through the Holy Spirit.

We know this new hope begins at the cross.  What is the next step?  What is today's action to allow this eschatology to be imparted?

Three Deaths: Meditation for Good Friday

The penultimate death is this:
The underground passage to an unknown land;
The unseen forest creek leading to the deep ocean;
Eternal darkness of hidden rest;
The track divided, whether right or left we have already chosen.
It is a separation from all we love and rapture we have known to plunge into
A solemn welcome to the sea of hidden humanity.
The masses fear it
but we all must travel

The master Death is this:
He awakes you every morning, sorrow lowering your brow;
You roll over, wondering which way he will abuse your body;
He plants today the brutal children in your path, threatening, battering;
He is the menace in the officer’s gaze as he destroys your safety;
He is the fist of the skinhead landing on your face, your gut, your crown;
He is your rapist, thrusting his hell within you;
He is the kidnapper, forcing you to kill or be killed;
He is the comfort of the liar, easing us all to the ideas of war and famine;
He is the persistent nausea and pain of what another calls “healing”;
He is the slow quiet desperation, certain of an untimely ending.
He is living dystopia
For all the lowly.

The defeating death is this:
The newborn father awaking to give the mother respite;
Forgiving he who stole your life;
Giving the last coin to bring the injured to a healer;
Remaining awake all night to prevent a friend’s suicide;
Quitting your job because they abuse the poor;
Standing  before the soldier that he won’t shoot the innocent;
Daily waking exhausted to serve those without hope;
Becoming a slave to comfort the slave
Healing lepers and so becoming a leper;
Serving prisoners as a prisoner;
Ending on a hateful blade.
Embracing the master
Is death’s defeat.