24 July 2015

Entertaining Angels – Strangers

Greetings Dear Reader,

A friend of mine who was, like me born and reared in the South visited my Midwest home for the first time.  As we walked down one of the streets dedicated to tourism and marketing he greeted people that passed.  He became increasingly frustrated by the lack of responses.

We grew up in a world where you said hi to each other as you passed.  The predisposition was to treat strangers well.  The culture was one of being polite.  Please understand that this culture also contains an undercurrent of passive aggressiveness that is mean and dangerous as well.

Still we are to treat strangers well.  One of the motivations is that we have at times been in the presence of angels without knowing it.  It seems that the command to love everyone would be motivation enough to be good to those we do not know.  It goes further than that. 

Everything is not about us.  Angels look at us to try and understand the Father more deeply.   They know he has allowed us to wound the Son for our own redemption.  They know the war that rages around us and the ungodliness in the world are all part of the great Passion Play that is our reclamation effort. 

So often we want our solitude and we attempt to just blend in with the background.  We are supposed to be good to each other.  This is to be active and purposeful.  Strangers are neighbors we have not yet met.  Since we are not alone it is not just the strangers that benefit from our kindness.

The watchers know what was paid so that we could be good to each other.  They understand the full cost and demand that we live up to it.  How we treat strangers matters to more than just the stranger.  Perhaps we should consider that when we stop and the gas station and are in a hurry.  It may be that the grocery clerk or the waitress deserves better attention than we give.  After all, it is not all about us and our impact matters.

Lost in Crowds – Ian Anderson

I get lost in crowds: if I can, I remain invisible
to the hungry mouths. I stay unapproachable.
I wear the landscape of the urban chameleon.
Scarred by attention. And quietly addicted to innocence.

So, who am I? Come on: ask me, I dare you.
So, who am I? Come on: question me, if you care to.
And why not try to interrogate this apparition?
I melt away to get lost in this quaint condition.

At starry parties where, amongst the rich and the famous
I’m stuck for words: or worse, I blather with the best of them.
I see their eyes glaze and they look for the drinks tray.
Something in the drift of my conversation bothers them.

So, who am I? Come on: ask me, I dare you.
So, who am I? Come on: question me, if you care to.
And why not try to interrogate this apparition?
I melt away to get lost in this quaint condition..

In scary airports, in concourses over-filled,
I am detached in serious observation.
As a passenger, I become un-tethered when
I get lost in clouds: at home with my own quiet company.

So, who am I? Come on: ask me, I dare you.
So, who am I? Come on: question me, if you care to.
And why not try to interrogate this apparition?
I melt away to get lost in this quaint condition.

Herald Tribune or USA Today.
Sauvignon Blanc or oaky Chardonnay.
Asleep for the movie.
Awake for the dawn
Dancing on England and hedgerows
Embossed on a carpet of green.
I descend and forgive me I mean to get lost in crowds.

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn
Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every writer who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a home owner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure store.”

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