“I stood below the Light, because I was made by it.
He that knows the truth knows what the Light is.
And he that knows truth knows eternity.
And he that knows love knows truth.”
~St. Augustine, The Confessions of St. Augustine
These days, I feel like we are stumbling toward a sobering. It’s a slow process, the process of waking.
For the last seven months, Amber and I have been been doing the next thing as best we can–punch the clock, visit the doc, watch our television stories, listen to the right reverend deliver a rousing charge at the Sunday meeting. Lather, rinse, repeat. In some ways, we’ve been the walking dead, numb to that famous “stuff of earth” that “competes for the allegiance I owe only to the giver of all good things.” As things settle, as we find our new normal, I’m finding myself desiring the real.
I’m wondering whether I need to visit the river Jordan again, whether I need to re-sink myself neath the healing, cleansing, flood. But there’s a loyalty that’s deeper than mere sentiment, or the river Jordan for that matter, and I’m reminded of the once-for-all cost of the cross. I’m grateful for that.
I’m watching this process in Amber, too. She’s the fuse on a Roman candle, sparking and fizzing and preparing to fire something beautiful heavenward. She dances to All Sons and Daughters in the kitchen, stomping out the beat with Titus on her hip and sings “wake up, wake up, wake up all you sleepers; stand up, stand up, stand up, all you dreamers; hands up, hands up, hands up, all believers.” In the intermissions, she speaks more candidly of her rebellion years, even those years she white-washed with notions of Jesus. She tells me of the Light of her waking, revels in the freedom that comes in the process of seeking conformation to the image of the real.
This sobering is a graceful process, the numb fading slowly, which is a good thing because being conformed is not a painless process. We’re both asking hard questions about the kind of people we want to be. And in that, I find myself using words like “Reformed,” and “Evangelical,” less and less, and I’ve never used the terms “Progressive,” or “Emergent,” (gasp) to describe my faith in the first place. This is sure to be a source of great consternation to some. But what when we say that we’re trying to live with our eyes fixed on the author and perfecter of our faith? What when we tell them that we’re trying to commune with God through the person of Christ? Then what? Perhaps our boiled-down theologies will look less important then.
Somehow, I doubt that.
In my lifetime, I’ve known a handful of people who have walked eyes-wide-open with God. These were the people who were by-God bent on the cross, on prayer, fasting, and scripture. They were quiet people, graceful, merciful. They took the beatitudes at face value, opined less, loved more. We are not these people yet, but we’re asking if we might get there one day.
This is the waking dream.
If’n you’re here today, and if’n you’re willing to share a bit, would you tell me about the people who you knew that walked with God? Share about them in the comments.*Thanks for suffering my bit of journaling today. For regular updates, follow me on Twitter or like my Facebook page.
**Photo by Hugo Bernard, Creative Commons via Flickr.