And certain seasons bring heavier reminders.
I began remembering on Easter.
An ironic day to remember all my past dead end decisions, dead end relationships, and dead end hopes.
The day when the Dead One rose, was the day that I remembered all my dead.
Sometimes…. I doubt my "dead ends” have risen.
I wonder if they are buried deep under a mountain of denial and avoidance just waiting for the right moments to reveal themselves.
It’s when these doubts occur, that fear begins to envelope me.
I am absolutely terrified that others will see them.
They will see my insecurities.
Inadequacies.
Failures.
And any other shameful portion of my existence.
I have fought so hard and so long to not be seen.
To keep those weaknesses at a distance,
But at the cost of myself.
For although the failures and inadequacies are painful amongst other humans, they are a means of homecoming in the midst of the Divine.
A seed always dies before it grows.
"Then it happened that as Jesus was reclining at the table in the house, behold, many tax collectors and sinners came and were dining with Jesus and His disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they said to His disciples, "Why is your Teacher eating with the tax collectors and sinners?"But when Jesus heard this, He said, "It is not those who are healthy who need a physician, but those who are sick.…"
When I used to imagine this scene, I was on the outside looking in. I watched Jesus eat with “sinners and tax collectors”, and would think to myself that I wanted to be like that. I wanted to associate with those that were “sick” and not neglect their needs.
I’m not on the outside.
And I don’t want to be on the outside.
I am the Dead waiting to Rise.
I am the Dying continuously on the Rise.
I wonder if a God who “does not consider equality with God something to be grasped” feels at home amongst the humble.
And I never want to leave the table.
