The world revealed as greedy hands, pulling, reaching, needing, grabbing. People seen as believing they own me and the gifts I bring. Cool Hand Luke screaming "stop feeding off me," Ted Neeley in the midst of wailing lepers, overwhelmed by not enough me, too much everyone else.
Is there a difference between pouring out my cup and being drained dry, or are they the same? To whom am I slave? From which am I free? If I live for others is there still space for me, or can I even live for others until I lose myself completely?
What solution do I want to this? Approbation? Acknowledgement? Reverence? Pride is the most frightening thing to lose. Shame the hardest gaze to face. I fear losing self more than I yearn for emancipation.
Yet how else to live free? Free from the tongue lashes of why haven't you yet served me, and I know you have time coming, but I need you now. Free to know my offering is perfect as it is, to resist the image of never good enough, to live accepting less of myself? To live the life I've been given believing I am using it as intended?
What is the answer in the symbol Christ?
It is through death with no fear. It is surrender, immersion, completion. It is to life, "Into your hands I commend myself." It is to others, "Make me." It is to self, "I love and trust you." It is to Beloved, "I shall love as I am loved." It is believing God is only ever Good.
Asking for Faith,
Cobalt Dreams
No comments:
Post a Comment