How often we hear those words, I love you more than life itself, it’s depth of meaning, words that every mother has written in her heart, her love for her children, is greater than all the other love she has. The work begins after the honey moon ends. This week is an anniversary for many reasons, the ending of the first great war, and the lives given, in order to prevent the same happening again. In a world of conflict, where common ground is rare, we all want to be successful, your religion differs from mine, you pray Sundays, we do it everyday, Saturday is better for us, well, I do it every other day, as they say, there are many areas of contention, and when it comes to choosing sides, it’s easy to get dragged into issues, just because we are made aware of all these differences. I don’t think Jesus would have shared our differences, and when His life is examined closely, and all religions lay claim to his Being, he made a point of meeting and dining with all, for Him, it was a question of passing on the Spirit, regardless of your faith or circumstance. 2,000 years later, there are signs appearing on a daily basis, all saying the same thing, reform. So if we Love as we claim to do, and if we have Faith, as billions claim to do, it’s time to regard our differences, the same way we regard flowers in the garden; well, we all love flowers, amen.
The day opens, in the Kitchen, the children come down to eat, there is tension, the argument the night before, the air is thick, you want the place to yourself, stuff is going around your head, and the silence does not help. Fighting the inner demon, you shout off your mouth too often, booze perhaps, you don’t want to admit it, since he walked out on you and the kids it’s not the same, the letter in the post and the imminent divorce hearing, the children heard the screams you made, trying to stay afloat in a very emotional world. The grief counselor advised you to try new things, the children will have to get used to a new surrounds, but you can’t let go, then you remember the old times, it was good, music in the morning, you had them humming in the car. Putting the kettle down, you reach for the radio, the delay as you put your finger on the on button, you don’t want to hear the music you all listened to as a family, when is father coming home, the call, what a heart break, you are in tears every time they say those hard words, worse than a death, he is loving someone else.
The music comes on, the children bob their heads in tandem, the anger seems to let go, you watch them, what did they do to deserve this breakdown in their life. You think, you forget the hurt, you feel the need in front of your eyes, later you read the papers, you begin to see through immigrant eyes, cause isn’t that what we all are, seekers.
Solomon sighed, he had a dream, the child without a parent, the small boy calling out for his father, someone to sort it out, the same needs all over the globe, the feeling of security, someone you can discuss your emotions with, without fear. The so called experts can only plan for failure, when things go wrong they come up with the answers, never before, always later. Too much for many, the tyrants the same experts support are causing a flood of people on the move, of course they give the well spun answers, while the UN hide, well, it takes so much time to get it organised they say, same as the plight of Palestine, a concrete heap, where children become scarred with hatred. With the signs in the sky, they better get active sighed Solomon, amen.
Meanwhile, breakfast becomes a new musical festival every day, the joy returns, each one of you has their own playlist, and inside you begin to shine.
The parents are in shock, it’s not how they planned it, they both healthy, however their child, is born with a few problems, it’s going to require them give extra care, do a bit more, a little more love. Well, sighed Solomon, if they wanted a reason to love that bit extra, they found it. God acts in mysterious ways; it makes miracles all the more important, the power, there for all to see, amen.
She wanted the perfect marriage; a man with a good job, a lifestyle she could get her teeth into, and not the struggles of her parents, they were always short of cash, and fear. Hours spent shopping rather than worrying, she recalls her mothers hand me down clothes, the shame she felt in school, how awkward is that.
The Spirit of God is inside all of you, you just have to create the space, or more importantly, you don’t need to clog it with rubbish, the heart is your safe haven, mind he says. In the emotionally charged environment, the teachers work hard; they are on a vocation, success to them, the success of the students; the other stuff is the other stuff.
There were many who carried the bruises of a difficult rearing; alcohol abuse, bad parenting, a tough neighborhood, lack of opportunity, parents away working too much, while tender hearts waited for them, only to be over dosed, and left alone for awhile more. The perfect image on the TV, was not their world, wasn’t close. Poverty does not sell, amen.
Yet, out of the outcomes of life’s struggles, comes the stuff you have inside you, often buried so deep, it never reaches the surface. Wisdom sighed Solomon, who had to deal with struggles of his own too, amen.
he shares easily and she knows it, he’s the lamb on the table, he is the meal at the end of the day, whoever provides the resources wins all the accolades, the reaction to the doner as temporary as an umbrella on a rainy day, once the rain is over there will be no use for it, once the money is gone the same reaction will be disappointing again
, the lamb never knows until they have him, and then he is gone. Life is like that sighed Solomon, impatience then assistance then deliverance from what there was, depends where you lie at the moment, are you a farmer or are you just another ram. The expression was a surprise, it wasn’t something unexpected, but the mask fell from the face, he could see clearly behind it, this was not a place for lambs, neither was the city for the new arrival or the refugee.
society was layers of folks, each trying to get to the next level, once the resources were secure, they were no different to those they complained about, it was something human and it was not very humanizing, amen. The face of the deceiver, could be a lamb one moment a demon the next, did everyone change as soon as the situation improved, the only thought more of the new lets forget about where we came from, was that it, amen.
Imagine it, you can say what you like about Jesus, and be forgiven, just imagine it, well it’s written, imagine it, you can’t say anything about the Holy Spirit, that offends God, just imagine it, well it’s written, the border that can’t be crossed, even the demon knows it, amen, just imagine it. Imagine it, the Spirit comes from God, just imagine it, the creator of the universe, Solomon didn’t have to imagine it, now imagine that, so imagine the prayers of the ancient prophets, and the modern day efforts to taint love, and resting places of Holy Spirit. As said all those years ago, the Helper arrives, it had, there was no need to imagine it, amen.
The first blow sends her into shock, she has never seen him this way. The expression on her face shocks him, she has never seen her that way either. She feels her face, rubs the cheek, feels for anything broken. His adrenaline gets a hit, he is shocked at it. I’ll never do that again he swears. They embrace, he rubs her face, she is afraid, it will never happen again babe. The trust she has, is shaken, but she forgives him, it wont happen again. He’s a record of doing it. He knows how women cowl, give in and blame themselves. Love is a very potent form of dependency for those who already feel vulnerable.
Blood on her face, he is getting high on it, the kick to the ribs, her arms go defensive, he is getting excited she is worried about the kids, doesn’t want the neighbors to find out either. It’s repeated every few months, the doctor ignores the bruises, her friends had stopped calling round, just when she needs them, she is all alone. Blames herself, Stop. The angels were in the room watching, sends the helpers. Artists write songs, authors put words on it, social services call to the house. Dudes, didn’t you know there is a God!. Solomon was not in doubt, he had seen so much, it was enlightening. In a moment God could turn everyone into babbling fools, as sure as he allowed those with his Spirit to perform miracles, amen.
A handful of observers in Vietnam, a desire for a more open America, a disdain for the so called experts, and an appreciation and time for his Children, and then a bullet to the head, after which there was an unleashing of a plot, aimed at controlling our very world. How many years ago, this very evening, on the eve of that eventful trip,
he was sitting down with his children, whom he adored, a real family man, not an organisational flunk, whose only desire was power, had a deep disregard for the lobbyists, and thought that all presidential contenders should be state funded, given a budget to fight it out, leading to a better form of democracy. In the meantime, the arms industry flourished, the nuclear threat gathered force, and righteous leaders across the world were got rid of, all in his absence. Warned the world in a variety of ways, and what do we have, 54 years after his murder, a world on the brink. The men behind his murder, have left a legacy many never could get over, but at least JFK, left us with the hope, there are actually people who think there is a better way, amen.
Trapped, no chance of a reprieve, the needle arrives, they inject you, you get addicted, more and more, they own you, there is rent to pay, who exactly, who owns you, mine and i’ll use force, the young girl shivers, it’s not very hygienic, prayers are said, to whom, Jesus declared, there was no need to cut yourself, it was a lousy tradition and wasn’t worthy of human beings. Solomon was reading, the number of
young girls cut, for ritual sake down below, it wasn’t dignity, it was the opposite, it was the mark of a slave, amen.