If anybody reads this blog anymore, those of my oldest and closest friends will know that this blog was begun as an outlet of sorts. "Therapy," maybe, to help me sort my thoughts and externalize and give labels to some of the vagaries of my life which were causing me some issue.
I have said previously that I only write songs or poetry when I am feeling down, so if you don't hear any of that sort from me, assume that I am doing fine.
But you see, there is another level to that. I found great comfort in writing, and it was comfort which I needed--tremendously so. Then I mistakenly figured that when I no longer needed the outlet, that writing or thinking "out loud" on paper was not really necessary. This is a fallacy. Expressing thoughts when seeking to be elevated from the troughs back to status quo is just as effective in seeking to be elevated from status quo to new crests. Indeed, the same principle is at work.
I have been okay for years. Surely, we have ups and downs, but I have not allowed myself to be tossed about--my ups and downs have been normal to any man, and not extreme as they once were.
I have been listening to Stephen R. Covey books lately whilst at work. His counsel is to write. Keep a journal, keep notes on thoughts, whatever, but just write something unique about your day. Put it down. Express. This is counsel I have been hearing all of my life from my religious leaders. Not that Dr. Covey holds more sway than they do, but the cumulative message from admirable men has convinced me to write about what is on my mind.
Entry the First (well, not really, but since I've decided to write more often):
This is a very simple thought, but it has been on my mind. No doubt some of you have concluded this previously.
There was a man of the Pharisees, named Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews: The same came to Jesus by night, and said unto him, Rabbi, we know that thou art a teacher come from God: for no man can do these miracles that thou doest, except God be with him.
Jesus answered and said unto him, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.
Nicodemus saith unto him, How can a man be born when he is old? can he enter the second time into his mother’s womb, and be born?
Jesus answered, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God.
Repentance equals
Rebirth. We are familiar with Nicodemus' conversation with Jesus Christ about being reborn, that it is not a literal re-entering of the womb, but rather a rebirth of water and of spirit (baptism and the Gift of the Holy Ghost). Little children grasp this concept. As I hold my six month-old who by now must top 20 pounds, and survey his length and girth after only six months, I look at his mother and am stupefied that even 13 pounds earlier, this little guy came out of that little woman.
On one occasion, I wondered what it was like for him. You know--being born. The actual experience of it. Obviously not a fun experience, being pushed through a four inch opening, being pulled, poked, prodded and contorted, eased from the warm, dark, muffled world into a cold, bright and noisy one. How annoying! How frightening! How hard and traumatic it must have been on my little guy. Perhaps that experience alone is why nature prevents us from remembering the trauma of childbirth.
Oh yes, it was hard on baby. It was hard on us all when we were born, but we have very little empathy because our own memories of being born are gone. But my poor little guy! Okay, out of the womb, next thing he is being scrubbed, pricked, dried off, put on a cold scale under a hot lamp, all of these new confusing sensations all at once. And now he's breathing on his own, lungs filling with cold oxygen. That's new! And it's exhausting. Finally wrapped in soft warm cloth, baby can rest on mother's chest, held by the one who loves him the most. Baby can now sleep after the pain and trauma of being born.
Yea, they may forget...
Oh yes, it was hard on baby. But baby will forget. Baby always forgets.
But mother will remember. Mother always remembers. As difficult as it was for baby, who will never appreciate the miracle of childbirth (once baby girl gives birth, she is no longer a baby, but a mother), mother had it so much worse than baby did. We hear words like "split in two." Sometimes: "I wanted to die."
For can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? Yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee...
Yes, mothers literally walk through the valley of the shadow of death to deliver new life. They put their lives on the line in order to
deliver a new soul to life.
But one of the soldiers with a spear pierced his side, and forthwith came there out blood and water.
Blood and water and travail and rending. And loving unconditionally. Teaching to walk, speak, obey, and grow.
May we, the babies, remember our spiritual rebirths. Repentance is cold, uncomfortable, pricks us, puts us under the heat lamp for inspection and tests, and we squirm and fight. We hate it! The eventuality of it all is that we end up back in the arms of the one who loves us the most, who will never forget the pain it took to deliver us.
And again, I remember that thou hast said that thou hast loved the world, even unto the laying down of thy life for the world, that thou mightest take it again to prepare a place for the children of men.
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