Bridge Between Time

Time comes and time goes. Time winds itself around our days and unravels the breaths of our lives. Sitting here on the back porch of my home in August 2012, I read the words written in 1560. They are the words closest to a man’s heart. The words that describe the most intimate relationship of a man and his God. This is more tenderly written than any love letter pinned to describe the blushing love of a young heart. These words were tenderly and carefully crafted to hold infinite mystery. Like the baby Jesus held in his virgin mother’s arms, a mystery incapable of being held swaddled in dirty rags.

I see a great chasm of years. I see the picture of John Knox. I see him bent over his task of putting into words that which is indescribable but must be described. I see him there and I see me here. I, a woman, in the Texas heat reading these words. He looks up and a moment opens between the years.  What would he make of me? What would I make of him?

My God is present here and there. My God is present before the beginning and in each moment between then and the end to come. How then do I grasp this thought? One fleeting moment and time unwinds just enough to catch a glimpse of one of the saints. One fleeting moment and through the break in the sky the cloud of witnesses is seen. One fleeting moment and the dog barks and the mosquito buzzes and there is no more bridge.

The words on the page fall back into their archaic cadence. Only the glory of the one who transcends and inhabits every moment, only that bit of glory is left at the back of my eyes, an aftershock of light.  But the memory rests on the tip of my tongue, a word searched for but not found- a memory of a speck of time that did not happen but will.

Time comes and time goes. Time twists and rolls throughout hours and days. It can be held but only for a breath and then it is gone.  Time is short and our gifts are meant to be shared across the bridges

From the past

How strange to see the past decorating the present. Like rediscovered diamonds, the learning from years before shines now. Some say that our God has plan A and plan B for our lives. That our decisions change our path like the “Choose Your Own Adventure” stories I loved so much in middle school. The books would have a beginning but at decisive points the reader was give options. If you chose A, then you would go to one ending. If B, your path would wind down to another ending. So many options lay out before you. Your decisions impacted everything.  Others say that God has ordered every steps and knows the choices we will make before we make them. Our lives read like a traditional novel. The author has conceived of every twist and turn and knows the ending.

I have no idea which way our God works. Some days I want to think that God, in control of every breath has ordered everything from time before beginning to time after end. That in each choice and decision I make, my God has preordained what I will choose and the outcome will be as God desires. Then, I run into my selfish, angry self and make choices that hurt me and others.  Choices that lure me far away from the loving hand of my God and in despair I cry out “Oh Lord, come to my rescue”

I do know that our God loves us. When I look at the impact of my past on my future, I see the hand of God. How else to explain a book that impacted me in a philosophy class in 1994 coming again into my life in a church service in 2012? It could be mere coincident if all the supporting details were left unexplored. But taken in the totality of experience it is easy to see that what was begun so many years ago is being redeveloped now.

All the pain and challenges that I have walked through since that first reading have added beauty and depth to the picture it paints now. All the joy that I have felt and tasted brings fullness to each thought. Who else but a God of love could take each wandering step and bring it into a delightful tapestry capable of impacting not just one but the community of believers?  The mysteries of my God are beyond my ability to comprehend. The grace/truth continuum is enough to hold my brain hostage for months. Add in the problem of love and holiness and I’m pondering for years. But in the end it comes down to the faith of a child. It is this way because it is this way. In the end we will have answers but the answers may not matter in the face of our awesome God who will wipe away our tears and restore us to our home.

Yoda

Throughout my life I’ve pictured my inner self in different ways. One of my favorite alter egos was a black jazz singer from the late 30s. I imagined myself in a red fringe lined dress in some smoky night club singing to drown out the sorrow of a love gone wrong.  Another favorite is the warrior angel riding a white horse loping off the heads of those who dared defy my God and King. These imagined avatars are not created consciously.  They just kind of appear on the outskirts of my imagination and take on a life of their own superimposed on the much more mundane reality.

Now, the fertile field of my imagination has me in the form of Yoda.  Something has changed the warrior into the wizard. Could it just be the result of age? I’m not sure that age alone would cause such a shift. Yoda had all the power. He was so attuned to the Force that he could do anything. Yet, he chose to do very little. His focus was on the development of his relationship with the Force and the mentoring of the others.

For the last month I’ve been standing over a deep chasm, under one foot I had the certainty of the way I’ve always known. Under the other foot was a different way of conceptualizing the world. In between lies the truth.  I look at the concept of a grace/truth continuum.  Grace is fundamental to our understanding of God. Truth is fundamental to our understanding of God. Even though both are fundamental, the impact of working from one world view or the other has created chasms that separate people. These divisions keep those who love the same things far apart. Sometimes it feels like love is the X-wing fighter sinking in the swamp.

I guess the avatars tell something of who we want to be. I want to exhibit that otherworldly peace of a person who is intimately connected with something so much bigger than themselves. I want to be able to throw off all the cares of the world and do just as I am commanded-no more, no less. I want to watch as those I love become stronger, guiding them but fading deeper into the background as each day passes. I want to be the kind of person who can share whatever I have that is of value and keep only that which holds no good.  So, I imagine myself as a little old alien with no apparent value outside of a deep, abiding relationship with the greatest force imaginable.