Truth Comes to Me at the Fence Post

 

Before I go on a journey, particularly if it involves airplane travel, I take time to find a novel to take along. I try to find a piece of fiction that is engaging and is long enough to last through long waits in airports. It is sometimes read while on the plane. I can read for hours, completely at home in the story. Time passes quickly and is enjoyable.

 

Matt Haig, in his book, Notes on a Nervous Planet, writes:

In a world that can get too much, a world where we are running out of mind space, fictional worlds are essential. They can be an escape from reality, yes, but not an escape from the truth. Quite the opposite. In the “real” world, I used to struggle with fitting in. The codes you had to follow. The lies you had to tell. The laughs you had to fake. Fiction felt not like an escape from truth but a release into it. Even if its was a truth with monsters or talks of bears, there was always some kind of truth there. A truth that could keep you sane, or at least you you.

For me reading was never an antisocial activity. It was deeply social. It was the most profound kind of socializing there was. A deep connection to the imagination of another human being. A way to connect without the many filters society normally demands.

Reading … is important because it gives you room to exist beyond the reality you’re given. It is how humans merge. How minds connect. Dreams. Empathy. Understanding. Escape.

Reading is love in action. (-pg238-9)

 

Reading is love in action. Haig describes for me what the long readings of the Lent cycle and Holy Week are all about. Jesus is into the telling of parables – stories wherein we are released into truth- we experience a deep connection to the imagination of God; a room beyond our known and experienced reality. A place of possibilities and hope. Love in action. We are surrounded by God’s expansive imagination and truth in the parable of the fig tree. The parable of the prodigal son. The Passion narrative.

 

I don’t know about you, but every time I come to the story of the prodigal son, I fall into it in a different place. I hear and experience new truths, learning much about myself as a human being and where I am in life and my relationships with others. I become aware of where I am stuck in not living God’s covenant fully. The prodigal son parable is like falling into a therapy session. And because I know the story and the characters it feels like a safe place to wander because at the conclusion of the story, I always come away with feeling that the reading is love in action – big love, God love.

 

I have a good friend who explores scripture by imagining themself in the Gospel story. They insert themself in the story as they are in their everyday life. While in the story they talk with the characters, work alongside them, and participate in whatever is going on. When my friend talks about these journeys I am amazed with the deep conversations they have with Jesus. My friend often says, “So, I asked Jesus about that.” Then they tell me about what wisdom they encountered; the truth that was present. They drop themselves into the story with the expectation that their experience with Jesus will change them  - their perspective, their understanding, their capacity; their ability to love and be loved. What a powerful way to enter the Gospel --- God’s story.

 

Haig, in his writing, draws on his experience of mental illness and depression. The reading of fiction is one of the ways he finds healing and wholeness. He writes, “Find a good book. And sit down and read it. There will be times in our life when you’ll feel lost and confused. The way back to yourself is through reading. I want to remember that. The more you read, the more you will know how to find your way through those difficult times.” _pg266

 

We have a good book. In fact, we have many good books, all in one book – the Bible. This year, the focus is on the Book of Luke and Luke’s telling of the Gospel story. Luke is a master storyteller. His characters are everyday people, living everyday lives, with everyday emotions. The stories are understandably human. What appear to be very human stories are waiting for us to fall into them – to read and relax into truth. What we find is that the stories, while being very human, are rich with the presence of God.

 

This year, as I relaxed into the story of the prodigal son, and walked around in it, I rested at the gate of the farm. The prodigal son returns: I saw him coming down the road. The father whoops and hollers loudly when he sees the son. Shortly thereafter there is a whole lot of commotion. Large groups of birds are disturbed and fly in circling masses. Hired hands scurry all over the farm gathering the fixings to host a celebration, a party with food and dancing. People from the neighbouring countryside are issued invitations, as the word spreads people start streaming to the farm. At the gate I see and hear the makings of a party. There is movement and work all over the estate, along with the noise of that work. I smell the food cooking. The dust from the road catches in my throat as it swirls behind carts and wagons. It seems everyone has heard about the party --- except for an oblivious older son, who doesn’t realize until he pretty much stumbles in the door of the farmhouse. It is impossible to believe that he had no idea, that his senses missed it all. How did he miss the excitement and enthusiasm, the commotion and the preparation?

This is when Truth joins me at the fence post and taps me on the shoulder and asks me, “are you oblivious?”

 

I pause because I cast my gaze on the party at hand. I saw the son come home. I felt the joy of the father and the love given to the returning son. I was present in the commotion. I witnessed the daftness of the elder son.

Truth, has not let go of my shoulder, and whispers, “To what are you oblivious? What is God doing? Where is love? Where is there rejoicing? Where is there extravagant hospitality?” Truth whispers it as fact, I am oblivious even though I pride myself on being keenly observant.

Truth turns and stands in front of me and looking me in the eye, looking deep inside and repeats, “what are you missing?”

 In this later half of Lent, Truth asks me to step away from being preoccupied in work and daily tasks, being consumed by world crisis, from being self-absorbed, and to pay attention to a present God who is hosting welcome home parties all over the neighbourhood, inviting me to come, and use my hands to participate with excitement and enthusiasm in the commotion and preparation for the celebrations.

Truth has spoken to me through the Gospel story.

 

This Sunday in Lent we are given a gift of story. I encourage you to return to story of the prodigal son and the rejoicing father, Luke 15 starting at verse 11, place yourself in the story, be released into truth – and find what Truth says to you. Pick up the Gospel of Luke, sit down and read it. As you read, find the way back to yourself, make deep connections in all relationships, be healed by the presence of God, and be inspired by love in action, to be God’s love in action.

 

Thanks be to God.

Amen.