Her true name

She had her secret place at the top of the stairs, through a small door. It wasn’t as low as a teahouse door, but still enough to make you crawl. It was meant to keep out adults – those inflexible in body or mind (often one causes the other).

There was no latch on the door. That would invite trouble. Someone might see it as a treasure house and feel a need to break in. Again and again and again she learned the lesson. Don’t advertise, but don’t hide either. Those who had eyes to see and ears to hear with know beyond knowing and would be welcome.

Why did she feel the need for this secret place? Why could she not be herself, fully who God made her to be, in front of anyone else?

Certainly not the public. They weren’t worthy. They flocked to her like moths when she shone her light, drowning her out. They assumed she had special powers and brought all their illnesses to her to heal – confessing all their sins. This is why they complained to her all the time. This is why they only spoke negatively, telling her about their ungrateful relatives, new illness, or even how hot / cold / rainy or dry it is. They were bringing their illnesses to her for healing, without even knowing they were sick.Trouble was that they didn’t want the kind of healing she offered – the healing that she used for herself, straight from the True Healer. They wanted a quick fix and most importantly for someone else to do it.

This true healing was closer to having to walk to the rain forest, find a young tree, water and protect it from predators and climb it and harvest the leaves, then then befriend a herbalist and learn exactly how to make the tea. 

And then drink it every day.

It was that much work. 

Quick fixes, especially gotten from others, were how they were sick – why they were sick. The DIY life wasn’t what they wanted, but what they needed.

She got drained by them – and worse, they came to see her as the healer, and not the One God, the true Teacher and Master. Maybe this is why Moses lived in a tent outside the camp. Maybe that is why Jesus went away to deserted places to pray. They had to. Otherwise they were empty, drained dry. No refills, no replacement batteries. One and done, over and out.

But that way led to madness. Not just burnout, but burned up, to a crisp, gone. An empty house, useful to no one, especially God. So she made an appointment with herself for her sanctuary, her quiet space, away from everyone so she could be with her Beloved, the One who knew her by her true name.

Written 8/9/18


Wednesday couldn’t come soon enough. That was the day of the apocalypse, the total collapse, the change above all changes. Liz knew there was no preparing for it, so she went on doing what she always did. No use freaking out. It was a final exam, not a pop quiz.

They all knew it was coming. Only those who took it seriously and remembered would make it through. The rest? Those who acted like there were no consequences, only reward and no punishment? May God have mercy on their souls.

Of course, she didn’t really know what side she’d sort out on. Nobody did until the tally was closed. Plenty who thought they were “in” would be in for a huge surprise. But not her. She was OK either way. She just wanted to get it over, even if it meant she was thrown into the fire instead of the storehouse. It meant no more wondering. No more waiting. It was kind of like going to the doctor for your diagnosis – were you healthy, or was it cancer? After a certain point it didn’t matter. It was the waiting that was the hardest, the not knowing, the between state. Better to be hot or cold, but not lukewarm.

Lukewarm was the indifference, the inattention, the plague of the world. Believe or don’t believe – but only after due consideration. Not the middle, the apathetic middle, where people unthinkingly land. Not making a choice is a choice, after all. Neglect your garden and no vegetables will grow. Better to have bare ground with nothing sown than ground that is ignored and untended – filled with weeds and half shriveled produce, half eaten by insects grateful for the feast. No feast for those who pledge and don’t act. Better to say you won’t and do, than say you will and don’t.

But tomorrow was the day. Tomorrow and no other. August 8, 2018. She knew. It wasn’t numerology. Perhaps it was something like knowing a storm was coming. She could feel it in her bones. Nature spoke to nature. In this case, Spirit spoke to spirit. The breath of God was coming to sweep over the world, as it had in the beginning. Then it had passed over the waters and made a place for the land to rise. Tomorrow it will pass over that land and bring the waters back. But this time it will be the water of the Word, a baptism and cleansing of body and soul.

Not everyone would survive this. It would be a re-birth, and awakening unlike that which anyone could describe, for when they were born they had no previous words. This experience would be beyond words too – how would you explain something that hasn’t happened before but you have waited for all of your life, and before?

Maybe it was a bit like a hard wipe and reinstall of a computer. Or a remodel job that involves a complete gutting. Nothing would be the same except the outside.

Written 8/7/18