Between Pharisee And Fool

12/10/2006 9:10 AM – 9:33 AM

The room is cold from the wind that blows against the windows, wicking the warmth away to the farther places, but the sun is bright and the sky is blue. It would remind me of New Mexico if the blue was only a little larger. Of the Five Solas, sola gratia is the first.

And so God grant me faith, because it’s hard to write when the only thing you’re allowed to feel is levity. Write for money. Write to prove yourself valuable. Write to forget yourself. Write to ease the heart of the world. One step and then the next. One bite at a time. Tell yourself what you want, clichéd and landlocked, so long as you write. It is in trying to prove yourself justified to the world that you’ve found yourself alone, content with what you’ve done. Skip this track, the next has what you’re looking for. In all things, find yourself in grace. Nothing can give you faith but Divine action. Unverifiable though it may be.

And how many then have suffered the cold that your crazy allows you? And how do you fix it all? Forget it then, somewhere between Rat Bastard and Saint, neither end of the scale will satisfy. You’re much too human for that. Somewhere there is a forgetting that is remembering. Somewhere in there is a man that knows how to cry in the company of children. One that knows how not to as well. The path is narrow, situated as it is between two abysses, but Pharisee is the name of the ones that dwell in one, Fool, the other. It doesn’t have to make sense. Just delight by the end. Falling down afraid, waking up alive. It isn’t knowledge, it’s faith by grace. God save my life, I’ve too many things to see before I go. Keep me that I might go, hold me that I might fall afraid but not in terror. “Beloved, said the Glorious One, unless thy desire had been for me thou wouldst not have sought so long and so truly. For all find what they truly seek.” There. The ridges and the light. Alive though dead, mere wind will not wick us away.