A new creation

 So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! (2 Corinthians 5:17)

A wooden triptych sits on my desk at home. Folded up, it looks like a branch cut from a tree, four or five inches tall and two inches in diameter.

Unfold it on its string hinges and three figures rise in relief. On the left, a robed figure stands erect, hands together in prayer. A soldier, holding a sword, point down, directly in front of him, appears on the right. Both figures keep vigil over Jesus in the center panel, his arms spread wide on the cross.

A Wichi craftsman from the Chaco forest in northern Argentina carved the piece from a single piece of dark wood.

 I don’t know how long I’ve had it. I only know that in the last year it has become a sacrament in which I partake. It is there, waiting each day when I first come to my desk. Before I begin my work, I pick up it up, kiss the relief of Jesus and whisper to him, “I adore you, O Christ, and I bless you. By your holy cross you redeem the world.”

Without fail, the image of Jesus on the cross appears in my mind as I hold him close to my breath. His arms and body, wreathed with branches and leaves, reach out in welcome to take me in. Drawn into his eternal embrace, I am in him, part of him, wanted and loved, gathered with so many others whom I suppose are as needy as me.

With his love flowing through my heart and my lungs breathing the sweet air of freedom, the work can commence. For I know who I am, as only the heart can know. Once more aware that I am ever in Christ, I give myself to the work of the day, a free man.

Pr. David L. Miller

Freedom

 ³¹ Then Jesus said to those Jews who believed Him, “If you abide in my word, you are my disciples indeed. ³² And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” (John 8:31-32)

Tied in knots after a restless night, the deck beckons with a promise of freedom.

Memories haunted the dark hours, failures and faux pas, rejections and judgments from self and others for not having been good enough, not having done enough, never truly becoming the human soul I know that I am ... or could be ... and bring it to the light of day.

Knowing, too, there is so much less time, now, to become myself before my time is done.

All this I take to my chair as a faint breeze gentles the air stirring hope for a different knowing, one that soothes the battered soul and frees the heart to breathe. So, I pray.

Lord, you are ever near. May I know your loving presence in the breeze of dawn and in the mystery of this heart that I will never truly understand. But I know that you do. So I come here once again. Just to be with you.

With that, I read a verse, a story, and Jesus’ words carry me to faces from along ago. Souls who touched my own, even though I can barely remember a word they said because I was so young. What I recall is what it felt like to be with them.

And in the silence, comes the voice I came here to know. Yours. “Abide in me. Just be. Here. Listen. Say nothing. All I want is your presence. With me.”

All those faces were your own, weren’t they, Jesus? Each one, loving me. Each one, telling me who I am. Each one, silencing the night voices.

Each one speaking the Love, you are, the love that wants and invites me to come here and sink into your presence that you might untie the knots in my soul and set me free.

As you have, once again.

Pr. David L. Miller