It’s been two thousand, and twelve years since Jesus was killed.
I could have lived to the age of ninety, 23 times.
So much has happened. Christians, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists…everyone’s had great big fights.
I have lived through catastophe, and technological marvel.
And God has been silent.
No revelation, no certifiable, Global miracles, no rising from the dead, no undeniable messengers, no Kingdom of God.
Faith is all I live on, on and on and on. Endless.
Sometimes it’s like a heartless surrender. Like just being there because I believe but not because I’m excited.
Resignation, I think it’s called.
There are eight billion people alive today. How many have lived since that day on the mount?
All these people with all these sorrows and all these stories on this rock called Earth. What are we living for?
If we have been ‘saved’ by the blood of christ, if the promise of salvation was sealed by his death, why are we here? Why do we keep going on? What is supposed to be happening?
Are we to find something useful, something enjoyable here?
Give up your wealth, give up your relationships, give up your cheeks for slapping. So?
This gift of everlasting life that was paid for in blood…what is it all about?
There are two of me brooding over the fire today. Me, twenty three lifetimes ago, quivering with the anticipation of Jerusalem and the New Kingdom, and the defeat of death forevermore, by my king and my lord and my friend, Jesus, and me, now, twenty three lifetimes since, just shivering.
Cold, miserable, surrounded by lunatics telling me to kneel, to bow, to dress appropriately, to weep, to repent, to fear.
“Two will be working in the fields. One will be taken, the other left behind!”
“Seek ye first the Kingdom of God! He’s not here to make your life easy!”
“See the birds of the air and the fish in the sea…how they are fed and flourish? How much more does the lord love thee!”
There is endless slaughter and mayhem of those birds and fishes.
There are non-stop injustices here, on ordinary people, of atrocious proportions, now, then and throughout history.
What is all this suffering about?
I won’t be happy if I’m rich.
I won’t be happy if I’m poor.
At least as a Christian, I can bare martyrdom because through his name joy is coming, joy is coming!
Jesus is looking at me across the fire with piercing eyes.
He’s trying to give me something, but I’m angry and hopeless.
It’s been two thousand and twelve years since he died.
Twenty three lifetimes and number of very large headaches.
And there’s nothing but silence.