Treasure, Reason, and Mystery

The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls. When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it. -Matthew 13:44-46

What do you come to this blog looking for? Do you really come simply wanting to know more about me specifically? I doubt it...we blog, read, and write because we want relationship. We were made for relationship and talking and listening is a part of what it means to be in a relationship. I want people to come here and find, not the critic or cynic-which I often am-, but someone who esteems the good in the world, who rests in the goodness to come, and trusts that it isn't up to her best efforts to make things work.

I like this image of hidden treasure, because the gospel really is a hidden treasure that is worth us giving everything for-it's a story worth recklessly abandoning ourselves for-, because in it we find our truer, more beautiful, more real selves. It's mysterious. It's downright terrifying at times, as our ideas of what it means to live comfortably and securely fall to the wayside. But it's what we were made for. It is worth giving our whole selves for...It's also worth giving of ourselves to "people who don't deserve it" (do any of us, really?). It's worth taking the time to deeply ponder and reflect on the very mystery that it is, because it's downright amazing.

Somehow this all ties in...but i'm often not good with the loose ends. Sometimes having loose ends is better than trying to pull it all together, because how do you pull together the dangling threads of a mystery that is weaving itself through the cords of time and humanity, and is distinctly outside the control of both?

I heard this song (one I know well) the day before going to New York two weeks ago, and it marks the beginning of a time of change in my heart and my life...a new season that is surprising, scary, and thrilling...

Listen to the song and then read the Matthew passage at the same time (verse 43 is also very significant context, if you're interested).
U2 "40"- remastered version from war album
you can listen here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=czzIhi3s7UY&feature=related
although not as good as that version mentioned above

In this flailing economy, uncertain future, where can we place our trust? This song and this passage point us there...

If you came here expecting coherence, it's probably not what you got. I'm more interested in opening the power of this experience in my own heart to all of you and inviting you to participate in it. Too often I try to articulate what is unarticulable (if I created a word here, then oh well, so be it). And yeah, my response is emotional...and maybe not that rational. But the answers aren't always "written on the wall," so to say. Reason alone doesn't get me to the place I want to go. Let's face it, selling everything we have for a treasure in a field usually doesn't make sense to most.

The language of logical argument, of proofs, is the language of the limited self we know and can manipulate. But the language of parable and poetry, of storytelling, moves from the imprisoned language of the provable into the freed language of what I must, for lack of another word, continue to call faith. For me, this involves trust not in "the gods" but in God. But if the word God has understandably become offensive to many, then the language of the human being, faith in courage and honor and nobility, faith in love, our love for each other, and our dependence on each other. And it involves for me a constantly renewed awareness of the fact that if I am a human being who writes, and who sends my stories out into the world for people to read, then I must have the courage to make a commitment to the unknown and unknowable (in the sense of intellectual proof), the world of love and particularity which gives light to the darkness. -Madeline L'Engle (A Circle of Quiet p. 194)

and my reaction: "Our truest response to the irrationality of the world is to paint or sing or write, for only in such response do we find truth." -also L'Engle; and this is why I write...it's not often for you the reader, although I enjoy your involvement in the process. If this blog were about getting man's approval, I would have stopped long ago, its a web of emotions, tangles, and sometimes downright embarrassing tangents. It's often "art as process"-this blog can attest to that as you read sometimes incoherent trains of thought that maybe somehow sometime prick to the heart. I'm thankful for the process, and the mystery.