>>> Item number 22915 from WRITERS LOG9312C --- (88 records) ----- <<< Date: Tue, 21 Dec 1993 18:35:01 JST Reply-To: WRITERS Sender: WRITERS From: Mike Barker Subject: SUB: Another Epistle to the Writers Another Epistle to the Writers Once upon a time, God spoke. The voice rings in great thunderstorms, whispers in spring winds, and softly comforts in silences. There are those who refuse to listen, and God sorrows, but patiently keeps talking to them, hoping and praying that sometime they might listen, ready for even a moment's notice, trying different languages, louder and softer, every time there is a chance. There are those who talk loudly, covering over God's soft murmurs with their own chattering and pleading, wondering why God never answers, never speaks, never hears their constant orders and demands. God hears them, and tries to get a word in now and then around the edges. A few, here and there, now and then, listen. They hear God praying on the wind, they hear God singing with the bees, they hear small comforts and mighty words. Some wonder at their silent adoration, some mock their strange inattention, but they still listen. God is a bit of a gossip, so to speak. Once upon a time, God signed. The ripples move in earthquakes, they stroke in kitten's paws, and dance in lightning and sunshine, cloud and moon shimmer, star and darkest night. Waves and tides, fiddler crabs scuttling, fish slithering through wet embrace, all move with the strength of that signing. Grass growing quietly, weeds and flowers, mighty Sequoia and scrappy brush pine, feel God's rough palms grace their barks in shivering love. Wild hare, skittering away in the desert, fat cat stalking neighborhood alley, even dirty mutt and hissing rat in Chicago slums, know God's touch, God's fingers. Some people, of course, watch the ripples and sigh, wondering why no one understands the scientific order of sequential events, ignoring the flashes of grace around the edges, unseeing the palms that hold up the petty bouncing atoms, unwilling to heed the mystic signs. Others bend the fingers, break and smash, fight the nature of themselves and all others, and wish in vain for great miracles, ignoring the everpresent tiny miracles, calmly sure that God will work the way they order, and declare God absent because no one walks to their command. And again, there are those, scattered, bewildered, and bemused, who watch the grand parade, mouth gaping with amazement and wonder, throat dry with delight at the perilous sight of God's work in the world. God is a bit of a meddler, stirring up events. Odd, but those few, when they move, when they walk, when they talk, still hear God talking, still feel God signing, in everything around them. They dance with the singing, they relax with the presence, and wait for their God to open the doors. God knows how they do it. No system, no other person may clearly understand or exactly match the voice and the signs that they must follow, yet one self and one God - it's enough. Perhaps those who walk a different path have been shown that path. Perhaps those who would tell God what to say to others should consider what God says to them first. -------------------------------------------------------------------- I started to write a sensible, rational explanation of my beliefs. I think I'll stick with this instead. I will suggest that I have found echoes in some of the following sources: The Bible Zen books by D.T. Suzuki and others (Merton?) The Little Flowers of Brother ??? The Practice of the Presence of God The Word by Irving Wallace? The Church of The Savior in Washington, D.C. the allegory of the blind men and the elephant too many other people, places, and books to remember Holly said no one had talked to God. I listen a lot, and look on God working, and we have our talks. I know there are others too down the ages and in many places who have heard that word and felt that hand. Listen, watch, and don't be too surprised if God comes like a thief in the night, when you least expect it, in shapes and voices known only to you. "Your sins are forgiven. Go, and sin no more." Lord, what a challenge! May God be with each of you tink