Defiantly, I have smirked at the citing of a greater power, I have cursed God's name as it echoes off the walls of my room, I have stolidly folded my arms in braced-protest, and shaking, I have uttered foolish words of "prayer" when trapped by the Circle Of The Brethren. And I have a fear of the Church Of Christ, because when its shadow falls over my face, I am hidden and caught in a swill of hypnotic warmth, and I am in the once-familiar building. And in my mind, I have said "I don't know what will become of me; I just hope I don't end up a Christian". Yet, here I am, bare in the open Hand of the Gospel that stretches to these forgotten places on Earth, intrinsically fashioned to fit the part. I am a rogue palm line, wriggled free and wandering a maze of fleshy valleys. Shirking the stigma of Christ, I groan towards the Voice I heard. And I will find Christ after-all, it seems -- not on my terms, nor on the terms of others, but on a route truly designed and always foreseen.
My solidarity was broken this week when my Dad and I met in Bukavu. He had been away on business in Nairobi, and also had a few matters to address with FH Congo. So, seemingly by magic, we were reunited at the Kamembe Airport in Rwanda. I saw my Dad standing under the Arrivals archway, and he was all the sudden in Africa with me, in my life. The foreigner I'd become to myself, the runaway thoughts, the French-- he walked suddenly into all of it, like a picture of home pasted conspicuously onto my view. I won't attempt to re-cap the three short days we shared. I want to say though, that my Dad has a certain ability, whether conscious or not, of opening my ears to a quiet truth that never stops its sound in my life, but is often smothered under sediments of other noises.
Catching my breath, after screaming my raging lungs out at religion, at the nonsense I swallowed, at the imprisoned proles of the Corporate Church and the drunken tide dragging the world away from passion, I hear the still small voice. And my red face, hot from hatred, pales and is sedated; my eyes redden and my own voice is much softer than before. And my speech is slow, because I don't know what I want to say-- but somehow I know what to do.
There are many things coming up for me here in Kalemie. And many new things have began. My time away from this public communication has not been accidental or thoughtless; it has been a form of avoidance and of guilty silence (I find that a lot of things in my life are inspired by guilt). I am not saying this because I feel that I owe anyone a formal apology (I'm sure that everyone's gotten a long just fine without new posts on "DRC News"), but because it feels good to admit my stubbornness and even falseness. I think that there will be things to write about in the upcoming months and that I will want to write about them. So, to those of you who actually checked this site again (and to those who get an automatic update), thanks for reading and I'm looking forward to telling you more.
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3 comments:
Good to hear your process son, good to see you back at this site, good to hear the hope, the aniticpation of new things....
I love you,
Mom
Congratulations Nathan - you've begun the journey of finding your own voice! Thus far your life has been filled with the voices of others guiding, directing, correcting, encouraging, sometimes just being there, in all sorts of ways. These wonderful and necessary voices (ok, some weren't quite so wonderful at times) helped mold and shape us along the way. And, to a certain degree they helped define us - or to put it differently, they helped us define ourselves. But there comes a time when we have to begin to define ourselves apart from these voices.
You see, the composer is working on this amazing concerto. The notes are all there and all in their proper places. Its good, but not great like he'd like it to be. It just doesnt' have the richness, the fullness, the depth that it's meant to have. So he takes one note and moves it slightly, giving it it's own place distictly different from the others. At first it sounds abit odd, but it fits. The whole piece begins to take on new life because that one note has found its own place, its own voice in the midst of all the others. The composer likes what he hears because the piece now has the more of the richness he intended it to have. He may move the note again, or perhaps others around it, to further enliven the score; the process is always going on.
I look forward to hearing more of your voice as it finds its own place in this amazing composition of life. We need your voice - it will make the piece SO much better.
Big hug and lots 'o love ~
Kevin
Nathan, I love this whole doubt stuff, being angry, and denying your faith...I think you are growing...keep it up. As Julian of Norwich, the 15th Century mystic,said, "all shall be well." This is totally worth the $50 a month!!! :)
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