……..

I don’t want to pick up any weapons against my brothers. I don’t want to be a threat to Christ’s Bride.

And if that means throwing out all my ideologies, then I will do it willingly. If it means that I have to shut my mouth, then I will do it. All I want is to be a safe haven for people that are out in the open.

I do not want to be a growling rottweiler. If Christ’s Bride were to have any dog for a pet, it would be a poodle. She wants something soft to put in her lap and close its eyes. We are all sheep.

Being a faithful follower is not about feeling stupid and small. It is about feeling secure and powerful in her lap. And Dad is reading a book before bedtime, before the fire.

I don’t want to argue with people. I want to have a conversation if they do. I want to build things with them, to explore this world.

If we really are going to talk, I don’t want to attack your ideology. And I do not want to bring my own. I want to explore ideas with you. When is it ever helpful to attack?

It is only helpful to attack, when our enemy is ideologies that bind people with guilt. I will die dismantling wicked tools that bind the consciences of people as weak as myself. These things that shift weaklings’ security put them in authority. And anyone who is in authority is the most insecure of us all, the most threatened. Give the authority back to Dad, he can handle it. Rest your head and close your eyes.

When is it ever helpful to bring yourself or to see yourself? Don’t we own enough mirrors? Close your eyes. Rest your head.

I don’t want to see myself! I am constantly in the way of living faithfully, of spreading the truth that the Gospel brings security. I am only secure because of the Gospel.

We can separate truth, beauty, and goodness, but if we do our interactions with them all are through words and opinions. They are united and we best interact with them when we live lighted lives. When our lives emanate light, then we possess the truth, the beauty, the goodness. Enough talking, disagreeing, arguing, nuancing, qualifying. I don’t want to talk with you, I want to sing with you.

Enough talking. We’re not in junior high anymore, we are almost dead. More singing, exploring, loving.

 

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