We have been squashed, sliced up and packaged into shapes that were never designed to contain us. This world has been distorted, this global society has been expanded like a plastic carrier bag, translucent taught. Colour gone, the handles sprained, thin and grouped together like reeds. Life is pushed and pulled, so misshapen that there remains little similarity between how it is and how it was designed to be.
The distortion makes it impossible to black cube measure. The reference points have been sacrificed. The hook of the meter strikes erratically one way then bounces back the other. All the values have been disproportionately sprained. How can i measure a good life? By possessions? By status? By class? By health? By longevity? By happiness? I need a standard that untwists. A place where the distortions are made undistorted. A place not for lottery winners, but for everyone. A jeans and first tee shirt philosophy, more combi boiler suits than double breasted. This place isn’t for the lucky few it’s for all. This place offers everyone the opportunity to become spiritual millionaires. It is inclusive. Kurt Cobain said, “Come, Come as you are. inch Fear is the black beverage that holds me back from coming forward. Panic can grip, but Come, Come as you are, as a friend.
He sees me when i awaken, tired and scared, with tired dust in my eyes and funny hair and He says, You are precious. He sees my soul, He sees the good, the positive the faith and he says You are precious. He sees my offenses, my selfishness, my frustration, my ego and He says, You are precious. He sees the offenses done to me, the affects, the pains and he says You are precious. He sees my joking, He sees me sobbing, he says You are precious. When i came to be, He said You are precious, when i die, He will say You are precious.
When i hope He says You are precious, when i forget He says You are precious. He sees my confusion, my choices, bad and the good and He says You are precious. He looks into my blackened heart and says You are precious. At 30 nine yoa, He looks into my well being, the perishable and the endless. He sees it all. He sees it all and He still says, hey you! Me? I say. Yes, you. You are very precious to me I hear those words, they register with my endless and with my perishable.
He makes me into an indestructible treasure. Like it was. Like it means to be. I am a treasure that she has sold everything for. He is a precious bead that we have exchanged my well being to own. We are treasured by Him, in order for us to treasure each other. Just like the rock that is unbreakable, yet broken for me. This treasure costs everything I have and yet it’s free.
Romans eight says; For I am asked that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, will be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Master. I experience evanescence but I trust in long lasting.
Data compresion From slave to human, from h2o and to diamond, from captive to free man. The journey is my well being. The journey is the data compresion. The crucible. In this data compresion is the wind, the seasons, the speed, and the go-slow. The now and the future. The temporary and the permanent. Hope that speaks into the “now” that can invigorate and nurture. Hope that has it’s place in the future. My heart is calm because of His regenerative work in me. One that can never be fully realized until that day, but a restoration that is getting work done in my well being right now and will continue to transform my well being. Like the writer of Ecclesiastes, I could choose to measure my well being purely on mortality.
If that is the case life is about traveling from opiate to another. Part of my distortion, my bag of offenses, is my mortality. It is my birthmark. Getting old. Packaging, not shiny anymore. Get smaller wrap sculpted, carton squashed. The rush of being young? Equaled by the thrill of being alive for another day. Walking packaging, an income luggage. My choice to be an empty jewellery box. Treasure stored elsewhere. Allow jewellery box decay, allow it to fail. The most important thing left the box some time ago, the most important thing lives elsewhere. There is a beauty on earth, in the cadence of the months and in how that, sometimes, I can see God emerge long enough to burn hope. An email that everything is not lost. Even though I don’t understand it all I still choose to live it passionately.