I had to shower. Put on make-up. Choose clothes that made me look put together. I had to look well. So I wouldn’t be asked. It was a mask I donned. Partially to hide pain, but mostly to shadow the light of the healing. Strange really, but when the most objectionable part of your personality is confidence in a place that demands a self abasing humility, a false sense of unworthiness, you rarely express you. Especially if you are healthy, and know your own worth.
Interesting how the church can escape being the Body.
So much of what Jesus said asked people to stand and be who they are. Humanity loves the humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord part of the song, but we seem not to understand that when He lifts us up, it looks like… A person with a voice unique to them. Ask Isaiah. Ask Jesus. Ask Paul. Love, Grace, Peace… Confidence. He, the Light of Men, the Breath of God, is my very Life. I am a joint Heir with Christ. I am safely tucked into all that is Love. Whom shall I fear? For are all not safely tucked into His Love? Himself?
Somewhere in there, the Divine He, has become the Divine We. The greatest lie ever told was separation. He from us, me from you. All humans from the rest of creation. We can believe we individually are set apart, we who believe. We who have tasted, have seen. We who sit at the table and yet are too scared to own the fork and dig in to the meal. For now, is it not I who do my own cooking? Does the catered meal not come later, after I have truly shared in His suffering, and left mortality for immortality and been made as He is? Leave this shoddy body behind and embrace an unhindered eternity?
But look around… why are there so many empty chairs? And name cards of those I have not met yet? And why are there so many doors, all open? No one is checking invitations! And clearly, someone made a mistake with that name. I saw the news. Why is the security absent in the palace? It should be protecting, sorting, vigilant. Keeping the lot of us who are called separate from those who are not.
O. humility. What if that act of sanctification really is not about my response? What if it really was finished in Christ, whose death swallowed death, Whose resurrection brought life to light. Who preached unity even before He died, embracing not just those we saw as clean, but those who lived gutter existence… before they had a bath.
What if the welcome mat for heaven is covered in muddy footprints. What if being unsullied by the world has more to do with consciously avoiding division in our thinking and embracing the oneness of All that is made and held together in Him, who is Life and Love. What if my identity is rooted in the collective, and it is possible to love my neighbour even as I am loving myself. And throwing off everything that hinders is less about the sin I groom and more about the lies I believe that put me in the position to trust my Life so little, and refuse to see His glory.
What if I could go unveiled. O, I want to. Bittersweet Life! If only it didn’t cause my brother to stumble… we could enjoy it together.