There Comes the Day


When the day ends, there will have been many thoughts I would have liked to have shared with someone else and invariably, quite a few that would have been best kept within the confines of my skull.

No doubt, the confusion in there creates some challenges for the gatekeeper (my mouth) from distinguishing between the two.

To be fair, the lesser of them, in retrospect, are much more demanding to be heard than the words that should have been. Such is the paradoxical nature of life. Well, my life, any way.

But, if I were given foresight to know that this day, this very day, would be my last; that at today’s end every word I could or would speak would be accounted for and informed “It’s a wrap!”, this is the totality of that single bit of learned wisdom I would be compelled to leave behind as my last and final say in the matter of living:

To every single fellow human being that is yet to be or has not yet come to learn this universally, inescapable truth: You are a question that has no answer.

There may come a moment in the thrash and tumble of your otherwise unremarkable daily doing when you will realize that in every way that is possibly meaningful, you are very much alone with a problem of such existentially profound and personal suffering as to rip away any illusion you had that someone or something could deliver you from it.

“It” being experienced as what can be understood, only, as that visceral agony that attends our alienation as a human being completely, and irreconcilably separate from all other things living, thriving, lush with promises of hope, of yearning, of things eternal and pregnant with possibility; when our conscious frailty meets the constraints of self-reflected flesh mingling with common matter.

But no one will have prepared you for this moment. It comes cloaked and veiled by ordinary things. It lies waiting until an opening in the blackness of lost focus, a moment it finds your attention wandering unoccupied with no thought attending it. It is then, in the vulnerable crossroads of time when now is in its zenith of split second awareness that turns inwards towards itself and consumes the marrow of your mind as milky tendrils wind their way down drafty haunted halls of what is remembered, dust covered remains of obliterated understanding, that happens in the fractal span of eternity–an eternity that has abandoned you and  left you to suffer what it all means, alone. Completely and unequivocally alone.

You will realize all too soon that nothing *could* have prepared you for this moment. It escapes imagination. It defies the mind’s will to understand. But what you will only know once you’ve given yourself over to the demands of breathing in and breathing out long enough to let the deadness fall away around you, is that in this moment you are in a problem that has no solution. It becomes a problem that is not. All problems must have solutions. No solution, no problem.

You are a question that has no answer. Nothing exists on, in or below earth that can help relieve you of the torture that is the full bearing of this simple truth: nothing can bridge the distance between you and the life that bleeds all around and through you. Everything you believed of love, of happiness, of family, compassion and goodness lies dying at arm’s length away. This you will discover as instinctively you grasp for it with all of your mind’s intent. You will fail.

If you are one of the fortunate, failing, you will be broken. Not broken like splintered bone, but you will know you have been thoroughly destroyed. Whoever you believed yourself and everyone else to be is gone in that awareness of that being now impossible. It wasn’t really as you had thought, at all. Not at all.

Here, crawling on knees bent at cross roads all leading towards death and the vacuum of nothingness, you will find how blessed you are to be emptied and a perfect vessel for the Grace and Mercy given to you upon coming to call upon God in the anguish cries of your silent, private desperation. God willing, when this moment falls upon you, that you remember to submit to that awful truth and become your desperation.

This is the Golden Road to an Unlimited Devotion.

(original post October 2013)

Compound Cost of Rebellion

A rebellious man seeks only evil, So a cruel messenger will be sent against him.…Proverbs 17:11

uh oh.

This, in its highest reference, is an anticipation of the divine philosophy of St John, “sin is lawlessness” (ἡ ἁμαρτία ἐστὶν ἡ ἀνομία). “Sin is lawlessness. Sin and lawlessness are convertible terms. Sin is not an arbitrary conception; it is the assertion of the selfish will against a paramount authority. He who sins breaks, not only by accident or in an isolated detail, but essentially, the law which he was created to fulfill,” Westcott on 1 John 3:4.


“He that kicks against the pricks is waited for of the sword.” (Ancient Greek proverb)

…like the rebellious ox—driving the goad deeper and deeper.

“Stern discipline awaits him who leaves the path” (Proverbs 15:10).

Brutally true.

“The way of the unfaithful is hard” (Proverbs 13:15).

No kidding. This must be the greatest understatement ever made.