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{what are you looking for?} micah olin St. John 1: 35-42 & 1 Samuel 3: 3-19 What are you looking for? What did you expect romantic out of lyfe? The stale dampness of a crawl space in the universe. We’re coming from the God Particle, but I don’t know where we’re going. No fear, no distraction, just let go & remain. Hydrothermal vents near Antarctica, let me show you. Don’t be disturbed. De-islandize me from continental drift. Lamb of God, take away the sin of my isolation. For surely the sun will never set on a truckstop, the hopeful swagger of it all? The bed mints ran out a long time ago. Not knowing what to say means… shrug? Sometimes the feelings that are the most dangerous don’t feel that way at all. Bulletproof glass protects but it also distorts. Money & frontier freedom, great, but the discipleship question in Code John: Will you remain in me? Let the morning mist hold long enough to cover me. Underneath all the barnacles & broken halos, come & see the tattered hem of Christ’s garment on a dusty Galilean road. The carnality of this age seems to me a mixture of mud & kidnapped blood, storm orphans are leaving ransom notes. I have some white foam on my lips. The emergency word is washed away. Hospital beds abandoned in court yards, relief workers, underlings - nobody ever talks about what the horrors can do. Tongues swelling into fudge balloons, just… everyone lives alone. I have a Psalter standing across from me. I do not know him – he does not know me. Playing Marco Polo until You get too close. We’re here because children have grown up. The drone of tv, the clanking of cutlery. At first you want to know what happened to each heart. I owe it to myself & to You to absorb Your pain. The carnage is an office. Scared, fragile, I will not be taken by the water, I will go on my own. I need You. You have to come back. A procession of survivors showing Our Prince their faith is still alive with not “Where are You?” but “What are You asking of me here & now?” In a persistent vegetative state, like a broken locket, I have only half a heart. I pray as if You are actually absent. The pain outside marches around the pain inside. “You can see what you want in the ink blots of blood,” but it is essential for a wounded person to heal to harbor the truth that our relationships have a saving quality about them. Freedom’s great, but so is being safe & secure from all alarm. I give exterior expression to You in Heart, my native tongue. They love me from far away. Pray that I feel loved enough & desire You alone enough to desire lyfe, abiding in You. Enough. |
