(Derek wrote this piece 4 years ago, and it’s still there hidden among articles, but even I like to read it again and again… this is where the idea for “the bearable light” came from. And not just because we were watching The Unbearable Lightness of Being.)
Trees today seem far between lands. I am coming to Him on an airplane from a park bench. I am awake and ready. Time seems endless and alive. We will dance before Him-the celebrators–all of us, together entertaining the King. I see the ones who on earth, got lost in dance clubs, gay districts, gallery openings, and mixing world beats..all of us here together giving our funky glory to The King, knowing, finally what all these creative giftings were for other than mirroring doom or our own pleasure-knowing as if for the first time, all our creative undulations were to delight The King-like court jestures gesturing with all our celebratory might to honor and bring delight to Him-this one who loves so meticulously. This one whose face is shining between trees of a city park I am in.
His Face is like bread to us. We see Him in each person we meet along the way. Today, in city park Prague; tomorrow in New Mexico we see Him as sunburst melon colored cresting on Sandia mountains. The places we have walked. His fragrance left where we traveled. And tabernacles-places He dwelt within. We ourselves as place of indwelling-as sanctum for His Spirit. But also the potatoes we hand picked from open market in Sante Fe.
We wanted to be His Wind where we went. When I started it was on floor seated with seekers and pilgrims in graduate programs up North. Something/ someone pulling calling-a song on the edge of awareness-a chiming. Taking me to California to study scriptures and work with homeless trying to be more of His Light to others who needed it as bad as I.
We started houses of Peace along the way: San Fransisco, New Mexico, Austin, Texas-then on the road in RV picking up dreamers and seekers of The Way-wanting to know Him as a daily reality, we rambled in and under His Blessings. Some called us missionaries, others poets, irresponsible dreamers, deniers of reality, when all we sought was the True Core of Reality-this approachable King. This bearable Light. Christ.
Christ in us. Christ among the nations. Christ in reststops, restaurants, pubs, county lines. Christ in homeless, downtrodden-this endless loving of more and other. Christ as Kindness to clerks, singers and sages. Christ over and through the ages. Christ in us loving the nations. Christ through us building and adorning. Christ using us broken melodies to sing His Atrributes. Christ ruler of every dimension.
This journey is into Him. My journey is themed in His Grace. For I kept turning away, and each time somehow towards This Light He is. My journey took place in the orchard between building and silence; between those who wanted to taste and see, and those who were asleep in The Light. I wanted to get near to this one called Jesus. Sometimes this led me to monasteries along the roads; othertimes to brothels. I wanted to go where He was, and to start to actually know Him. His Face.
His Face is where I come to, and His Feet. To kiss the Son. To bow down, to serve Him in order to know Him. To enter His essence by proximity. Oh One above all others-one who rightfully rules.Oh gentle wise passionate sufferer make me a room for you to dwell within. Amen.
