But y'all can't blame her for how far out this post is gonna be.
That's on me...
And the illustration for this post would be Rockwell Kent's "Drifter".
Because it is the image of wonder.
You gotta look it up.
I'm not linking it.
And this, too, which is what this post is about.
Lou Giglio is a fiery pastor who's said and believes some things that make him maybe less of a vessel of hope than his religion allows.
But.
He did a mash up of stars and whales singing that added something to that chest of hope I keep near. Like my own breath and all priceless memories.
Then I'm thinking maybe... in his own capacity to worship the unrefined splendor of our Universe, in that audacious range, his own notion of Love and what's fucking OK will get bigger. Maybe.
Which is Exactly.
The same thing I'm trying to do...
For I saw in that awful captive moment when I judged him for judging gay people, that I had become as small as what he believed and perhaps even less because I was freed from those ideas of hell a long time ago and that's about half of what's still in his equation.
So there is that crack, that splinter from the jagged spaces piercing what was sanctimony. And I can't yank it out by myself.
But God. Is that so big absolute thing that excludes no one, embraces all, that never burns His own children.
That really isn't a big frowning white guy in the sky but the sky itself and maybe even in me when I accepted a friend request from the girl who bullied me long ago because she doesn't remember. Of course she chokes the timeline with that write Amen if you agree crap and I unfollowed but didn't unfriend.
Because I'm as far away from perfect as Lou is.
And I'm even farther away - as far as that quasar with a bass line.
God waits patiently until we stop fire throwing.
And then.
We're all just right there with those sacred whales and the music of the spheres, first chair and front row tickets all at once.
No, this wasn't a poem.
I just broke it up to see the splinters better.
