While the Spirit of God is doing this work [of regeneration] in man, man must also be ‘a fellowworker with God;’ he must entertain the Spirit, attend his inspirations, receive his whispers, obey all his motions, invite him farther, and truly renounce all confederacy with his enemy, sin; at no hand suffering any ‘root of bitterness to spring up,’ not allowing to himself any reserve of carnal pleasure, no clandestine lust, no private oppressions, no secret covetousness, no love to this world, that may discompose his duty… When we leave every sin, when we resolve never to return to the chains, when we have no love for the world but such as may be a servant of God; then I account that we are entered into a state of grace.

We remember the odd thing, here, there, no one knows why there triggers in us the memory. I have forgotten important things, I am sure, and recall the exact color of a childhood toy; and this oddness is what we call normal, regular: the exception is the rule. I might think there is some purpose to the whole affair, but what it may be cannot easily be discerned by these senses of mine: the mystery lingers, the peculiar mystery of it, the eccentricity of this unknown. I could guess that such things reflect the nature of the world, if we think on it, and only consider it odd because of how we perceive what is important to us: through these finite eyes. It may be that infinity must reflect upon the limited in eclectic ways if we are to receive the flavor of what is beyond. Or at least, realize what is out there, out there, odd that we might even conceive that it is.

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Grand Unified Theory of Life

It comes down to this: you either bet that the world is random and meaningless, or that there is ultimately purpose and meaning to it all. After all, Camus told us that one cannot be a part time nihilist. And methinks in my understanding of this world and the next, that there will be a threshold dealt to every soul, where he/she must decide to double down on either one hand of cards or another, and the dealer will turn over the card that’s been face down this whole time. My money is on the side of meaning, if that was not plain. And I do not suppose that the afterlife is meant for one who cannot decide whether it is all worth it or not. Because that goes a long way in deciding for oneself to make a life worth it or not. This is the true gamble of faith.

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The Gospel According to Judas: A Handbook on Life

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The Gospel According to Judas: A Handbook on Life

I have seen skies that were like the grandest paintings, surreal in their vivid blue, with clouds that seemed to have been shaped by angel wings. Then there were others that were more mundane, some that seemed almost fake, as if the real one were out for cleaning somewhere, and some placeholder poster were filling the space of the masterpiece. It’s just air, though, isn’t it? With the specific chemical mix that scatters the light so that it is the blue that we know? But of all that is of the world, there is nothing more otherworldly than the sky, nothing else that evokes all the kinds of dreams that matter. Even after taking it for granted for years and years, there comes that moment when one looks up and is amazed: why it is that they are called the heavens.

What is wrong with the world in general, is wrong likewise more or less with you and me, and with all human beings; for after all, the world is made up of human beings; and the sin of the world is nothing save the sins of each and all human beings put together; and the world will be renewed and come right again, just as far and no farther, as each human being is renewed and comes right. The only sure method, therefore, of setting the world right, is to begin by setting our own little part of the world right — in a word, setting ourselves right.

i sense the undercurrents building
wonder when the breaking moment comes, or if
all will subside, as if nothing ever were
either way i know that my heart will break
i’ve held the words of unfolding until the time ignites
the fire like brooding at the outskirts of doom
now the wind dreams through the trees
and the momentum of the sorrow throws me
out of orbit and hurtling through the infinite sky
to perceive the darkness born before the world
and the light that forever owes its weightlessness to
i have come to the edge of oblivion to stare
there is no beginning and there is no end
not if you believe: just one drop of courage
and you will find the strength to move that mountain
the miracle in the very blood, the beginning is near