To Arrive?

We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time.

-Eliot

There is a Voice calling me somewhere. I'm exploring, finding, arriving, departing.

Not that I'm a seeker; for I have found a path to walk on, though the legitimacy of that path is oft called into question.

Faith; always difficult to come to terms with - I envy and mistrust those who find it an easy task.

"Start with Scripture", go "Back to the Bible", "dig into the Word". And after that's all done, I find that I'm reading yet another new story.

That's the thing isn't it? To arrive is a contradiction, in arriving, one finds an alien familiarity.

Kind of like going home, familiar yet alien - just like Christ, so familiar, yet so strange.

Going home in Christ.

The Angel

She hurried down the dark path, hearing the train whistle getting closer and knew she didn't have much time. It needed to happen quickly if it was going to happen at all.

Inadequate, incompetent, stupid, useless; the barrage of self-loathing built up to a feverish frenzy as she looked desperately for escape. That day had been the tipping point; her boss had humiliated her before her co-workers yet again, practically shitting on her best efforts while being sure to point out his expertise in how her job was to be done. The worst part was, she knew that her best wasn't actually that good, her boss was indeed justified in his criticisms, though courtesy would suggest a gentler touch.

In the midst of her self-debasement the young woman noticed a slender form approaching her, coming up the path. She couldn't really make out who it was, but putting on her 'friendly face' greeted the stranger with a, "Hello, how are you?" Expecting the standard greeting of, "Good, how are you?" in return, she was shocked to find a listening ear. The stranger comforted the young woman, not giving answers, but instead, affirming that she had worth and was loved.

The two talked for hours, or rather, she talked while the other listened. Eventually, the young woman began to feel tired, her need for sleep becoming a stronger voice than the nightmarish demons that plagued her nocturnal hours. As the two said their goodbyes before the young woman turned back to her apartment and her warm bed, she could swear she heard the words, "I have called you by name, you are mine."

As she walked back, gazing up into the star strewn skies, she pondered that phrase, and her burdened heart seemed lighter and lighter. Upon reaching her apartment, she suddenly fell to her knees and praised God in a sudden exclamatory burst, thanking him for sending his messenger to save her.

Tears

Tears of joy, tears of grief, of frustration and relief.

A commonly correct response,

When things go well,

When things go ill;

I cry despite the taunts.

"Mourn with those who mourn."

This common burden has been borne

By all who live this fragile life,

Who've lost their mom, sister, or wife.

"Jesus wept,"

A pleasant verse except,

Weakness displayed by our King

Is difficult in its remembering.

God's grace remains,

As should be plain;

That soothing peace,

Dulling the pain.

So in the sadness, all hope's not lost

Christ's love's for you,

Forget the cost.