the accused
i've been in my closet lots lately (hence the shortage of posts). not a literal closet, of course, as far as you know. but a closet nonetheless. "satan" literally means "accuser," and i've been beaten up, hemmed in by fear, really. this creeping fear of getting sick, dying, leaving my family alone, becoming a terrible priest, turning my own daughter away from faith in christ, having someone find out that i'm all smoke and mirrors, an image w/ no substance. and, not least, fear at the approach of my god.
then matt asked me to imagine something:
ellie gets off the bus . . . . i can see her from my vantage in an upstairs window (my apartment has one floor and practically no windows, but bear w/ me), and she's crying b/c other kids are taunting her. calling her a loser. mocking her. hurting her feelings. making her unsure of herself. i hear the door close and her footsteps run inside. she closes herself in her (my) closet. sad. ashamed. afraid. undone.
imagine what i feel. i only want to hold her and give her comfort. solace. say it's ok.
but she huddles inside her closet. as i call her name, she shrinks even deeper into the musty coats and dark. i call, but she doesn't want me to see. the closer i come, the louder my steps, the more anxious she becomes. "i don't want to see pop -- i don't want pop to see me."
i am ellie. ellie is me. my father is calling to me, but the closer he comes, the more i huddle inside my closet b/c i am ashamed. i believe what the other kids say. i am accused, and i believe the accuser.
but "which of you, if his daughter asks him for bread, will give her a stone? or if she asks for a fish, will give her a snake? if you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him"? (mt 7.9-11).
my god is coming, but not with a raging fire. @ least not a destroying fire, but a refining one. what he offers is freedom, forgiveness, abundant life, joy. but i prefer the dark and the coats. if only i could learn everthing that being ellie's pop could teach me.
(thanks m@)
then matt asked me to imagine something:
ellie gets off the bus . . . . i can see her from my vantage in an upstairs window (my apartment has one floor and practically no windows, but bear w/ me), and she's crying b/c other kids are taunting her. calling her a loser. mocking her. hurting her feelings. making her unsure of herself. i hear the door close and her footsteps run inside. she closes herself in her (my) closet. sad. ashamed. afraid. undone.
imagine what i feel. i only want to hold her and give her comfort. solace. say it's ok.
but she huddles inside her closet. as i call her name, she shrinks even deeper into the musty coats and dark. i call, but she doesn't want me to see. the closer i come, the louder my steps, the more anxious she becomes. "i don't want to see pop -- i don't want pop to see me."
i am ellie. ellie is me. my father is calling to me, but the closer he comes, the more i huddle inside my closet b/c i am ashamed. i believe what the other kids say. i am accused, and i believe the accuser.
but "which of you, if his daughter asks him for bread, will give her a stone? or if she asks for a fish, will give her a snake? if you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him"? (mt 7.9-11).
my god is coming, but not with a raging fire. @ least not a destroying fire, but a refining one. what he offers is freedom, forgiveness, abundant life, joy. but i prefer the dark and the coats. if only i could learn everthing that being ellie's pop could teach me.
(thanks m@)
posted by Sammy @ 2:21 AM
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