Monday, June 4, 2007

Still Small Voice...

So last night I finished the book "Lamb" by Christopher Moore. It's a fiction novel about Jesus's life, missing years and all, told by Jesus's buddy Biff. The book is hilarious and lots of fun, but it ends on a less than humorous note with Jesus's crucifixion. I know it sounds stupid and terribly cheesy, but whenever Christ's crucifixion enters my mind (I'll read the stories in the bible, hear them over easter, or something like what happened last night), I get kinda depressed.

Questions of divinity aside, there is proof that Christ existed. He was a real person and he did good things in his life. Things that freaked a lot of people out. Best of all, he just did them for the sake of them being good things to do, not for himself. And regardless of whether he was God's son, born of the virgin Mary, he was crucified. He didn't do anything to deserve the torture he got. That's part of why I get upset over it. It was such a terrible injustice.

I do indeed believe in Christ's divinity, so if you pair the above paragraph with the years I've spent trying to cultivate a personal relationship with this guy, you've got something different all together. I have a hard time dealing with thinking of a friend on that cross suffering for me, so that I can be the fuck up I am now and still get God's love. No hoops, no loopholes, just love from the creator of the universe.

It's a pretty cool idea if you ask me, and I think that's the fundamental groundwork for Christianity. I'm sick and tired of people judging Christianity for all of the other bullshit that goes on around it. You know what? Christianity isn't supported by George Bush, Joel Osteen, or Jerry Falwell. I've let that negative thinking get to me for too long. This is all semi beside the point, so I'm going to get back to documenting my story so I can remember it.

At midnight, in my melancholy mood, I put on my shoes and went for a walk. I walked to another small lake, much like the one in the story below with the bass, but closer to home. When I got there, the clouds were completely gone, allowing the gloriously large and bright moon to cast its reflection on the lake below it. It was beautiful. All I could see was the clear night sky, the lake, and a silhouette of trees that closed me off entirely from the rest of the world. It felt like the lake was holding me, like I was visiting an old friend who was comforting me, so I sat down and we chatted for a while. I prayed.

I was praying for direction, for a reason I've been feeling so strange and drained lately, for insight into what to do with the rest of this summer. I didn't get it. I did, however, end up having a really good meditation trying to listen. When I was looking for God's voice, I started waiting for a reply, for some sign to answer me. I then remembered the story of Elijah. Elijah went up on a mountain to visit God and talk. There were a lot of huge natural disasters, big signs, but God's voice was not in them. After everything had died down, Elijah heard God's small voice in the silence. So I sat and tried to listen for God's still small voice. I didn't get exactly what I wanted, but I got what I needed. The Rolling Stones are some very intelligent people, you know. They got it right.

I left last night at peace with everything, and today, I'm putting my cross back around my neck and I'm wearing it proudly. I can do this because I know what I believe and what I don't. I think what happened last night was me making peace with a lot of my doubts. I'm done listening to people bashing Christianity on false grounds, for selfish reasons, etc. I know what I believe and I'm comfortable in that. :)


lindsey said...

Simply put- I admire you Sparky.

Anonymous said...

I really love this Zen story, and your post reminds me of it. Sort of representative of the hills and valleys on our spiritual journeys.

A student went to his meditation teacher and said, "My meditation is horrible! I feel so distracted, or my legs ache, or I'm constantly falling asleep. It's just horrible!" "It will pass," the teacher said matter-of-factly. A week later, the student came back to his teacher. "My meditation is wonderful! I feel so aware, so peaceful, so alive! It's just wonderful!' "It will pass," the teacher replied matter-of-factly.