-Lying down in front of altar, where fell asleep on Maundy Thurs.
Was that a
rooster crowing? It is morning
right? (Pause, stretch, on one elbow)
I did hear
a rooster, could it be true that Peter denied Jesus? Was Peter asked to go to
death with him? Is he –Jesus -really
going to die? *sigh*
I’m staying
put in this thinking spot, under the shelter of the olive trees and the growth
underneath. I’m in no hurry to be seen
on the street; not after last night.
On falling
asleep last night, I remember dreaming that today, if Jesus was the Messiah,
the world as we know it could look very different.
It is damp
this morning, grey, seeping into every bone.
Voices carry through the mist, sitting heavy in the moisture. I can hear the screaming of a crowd, like a
fog horn, “crucify, crucify” .....talk
about a bad dream!
It must be
that crazy crowd from last night; revved up from Passover, a little too much wine
to drink, a depravity of sleep ...it wasn’t a dream after all. They came with torches to take away Jesus, a
man’s ear was cut off and healed, there was confusion...and here I sat to think
and pray, and as always I fell asleep.
...I fell asleep thinking of Jesus, and a dream that yet could be.
[I spent] a
summer by [his] side
[He] filled my days with endless wonder
He took my childhood in his stride
He was speaking to us when the crowd came, Judas leading them. It was a talk that sounded like autumn, the
coming of cold weather, suffering, angst, sorrow, departure; there would be no
more healings, no more signs, no more wonders.
The hope giving was over for the season.
It didn’t sound like a speech to coral the troops, and inspire us on to
be, as Jesus said, “the ones who will sit on thrones judging the twelve
tribes of Israel.”
*shiver*
The birds
have fallen silent, the breeze has stopped -the trees breathless, the
suffocating calm before the storm.
Darkness is creeping through the garden, eating broad daylight in its
wake. And the ground continues to quake ...I fear the worst...
“My God, My
God why have you forsaken us...your people, one more time.”
Is it not
enough? Is it not finished?
I’m not
sure I have any more hope with which to dream.
I’m tired of seeking a Messiah. I
am spent. Tired.
I really
thought that Jesus was the ONE...but no...
Maybe the
story of covenant promise is just that -story.
Sure in the coming days, I’ll go through the motions of following the
law, loving my neighbour half heartedly; but no feeling it. My emotions are done. Broken relationships and the death of hope
leave me in the desert, where there are demons, poisonous snakes, and wild
things.
*looking
around* Speaking of wild...
I’m going
to seek shelter from this storm...ominous weather it is; the sky as black as
tar, still yet brewing...in the forecast -hail, driving rain? I am also running to hide from those who may
come looking for us, Jesus’ followers –since it appears all has turned sour. Our hopes dashed. *standing*
Winter is
settling in, I can feel it in my bones, my heart aches... all is not right in
the world. It’s as if the world has been
abandoned by God. Perhaps God is dead?
I had a
dream my life would be
So different from this hell I’m living
So
different now from what it seems
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