My King – Closing Thoughts

Greetings Dear Reader,

The light is just beginning to swim against the night.  The full moon is till up. I can make out faint grey where there was black.  It is cloudy so there will be no sudden brightness.  Everyone I love is elsewhere so I conduct my own quiet sunrise service.  I sit with my coffee and embrace the damp chill of the morning. 

New York City - 1956

I think about the women going early to the grave of my King.  They do not know yet.  They seek the dead.  They are going to serve the corpse of the King with spices and herbs.  They are doing a loving duty out of grief and loss.  They do not know.  They have faith and hope to sustain them but for the moment they seek the dead.

I ponder what we have lost along the way.  I consider that we no longer live in a nation that respects those who believe in God.  I have a conversation with someone who was told it was wrong to mention Jesus when talking about Easter.  If people do not see Jesus as he is then it is the fault of his followers.  Any ground we have lost to is because we do not live the Gospel.

As our society rejects Christ it hangs on to the trappings of the holy day.  Eggs, baskets, and bunnies replace joy, worship, and fealty.  We want to remake Christ into our image.  We want to make Jesus accepting of every position, choice, and lifestyle when he already is already accepting of everyone.  We want to pick and choose how we follow him instead of the he commands us to follow. 

We want to make the King politically correct.  My King lives and moves outside of politics.  He already became like us but his purpose in doing so was to that we could learn to be more like him.  He wants us to live.  He wants us to live in his light, love, and grace.

We try to make the living King conform to the dead.  He already did that and death could not contain him.  We try to dismiss the reality for our manufactured version of the truth.  We try to fit the living God into our constructs when life only thrives under the constructs he has determined.   

I promise you that we do not want the Jesus that we manufacture with our theologies, rules, and empty practices.  I think the angels at the tomb ask the same question every day.  “Why do you look for the living among the dead?”  I think they are astounded at our futile attempts to remake the King into our image.

As I have written this the light has grown.  The temperature has not gone up.  The coffee has gone cold but I am warm.  I am warn in the certain knowledge that Jesus Christ is risen.  He became like me so that I could become like him.  He came to seek and save all that was lost in every moment that we failed to follow him.  He died but death could not contain him.  He and the Father already had others plans.  That’s my King.  I wonder; do you know him?

A Little More Like Me – Kenny Rogers

It was an April night and I was driving

Went out on the town

The show was at the palace

So we all went on down

We all had a bomb as I recall

But now it seems absurd

As the madness raged upon the stage

He didn't say a word

He was a little weak and we all fear

It wasn't one of us

He didn't drink, he didn't smoke

And he didn't cuss

You'd see him now and then

With a bunch of men hanging around the sea

And I'm sure I would have liked him more

If he were a little more like me

It was a spring each day

The clouds were gray

Looked like in my dream

Thought about the night before

And I was so ashamed

When I heard what they had done to him

Stranger I had known

But as drunk as we all got last night

It's a wonder we got home

He was a little weak and we all fear

It wasn't one of us

He didn't drink, he didn't smoke

And he didn't [Incomprehensible]

You'd see him now and then

With a bunch of men hanging around the sea

And I'm sure I would have liked him more

If he were a little more like me

And I'm sure I would have liked him more

If he were a little more like me

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.”

(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)