Fragments

In Remembrance of, and Inspired by, Charlie Kirk

I and an acquaintance are conversing pleasantly. Suddenly, and with seeming innocence, a new topic is introduced, a controversial subject about which we disagree. Imagine the sort of sentences that might trigger the change:

     -Did you see [insert politician’s name here]'s speech last night?
     -People need to think it through better when it comes to [insert controversial social issue here].
     -You’re not really a [insert membership in a political party, religious tradition, offensive occupation, or activist cause here], are you?
     - There's no way I’m attending that [reunion, wedding, funeral, family event, etc.
     -The government needs to do something about [insert one of the innumerable possibilities here].

You get the idea.

Experience has taught me that, if allowed to continue according to the conventional pattern, this conversation will soon become unpleasant and unproductive at best. At worst, it will become a playground for the wicked spirits that delight in windbag fury among the humans, futile ego-wars of words (and eventually, bullets). 

Why does this happen invariably? Because the words and language of such conversations are rarely if ever able to move the participants closer to their shared, wounded, defensive humanity. Such arguments are simply the brandishing of fragmentary shields and swords - protecting only the most shallow of hidden agendas.

We are treading water in a great ocean. The energies, biases, and vague inward conflicts behind and beneath human consciousness: they are an ocean - deep, dark, mysterious, and dangerous. Words are the constantly shifting shimmers of light that dance on the surface of that ocean. Most of the time, and even on the lips of a great orator, words can only dance and glimmer, only hinting at what is really beneath.

If we are to move toward the better world most of us say we want, words are necessary, but they are far from being enough. And that includes the words that we say to ourselves as our own thoughts and ideas bubble to the surface. How can we not believe them, as a fundamentalist believes hers book. Each of us is a fundamentalist in the presence of hers culturally reinforced orthodoxies. “You will be like God, knowing good and evil,” said the serpent when tempting Eve. And the fact is, we are made to be godly in many ways, and to be wise about what is needed in our sphere of influence. But see how the serpent speaks in a way that dances on the surface of the ocean like shimmers of light, and leads humanity into every manner of self-destruction – justified by sophisticated sounding arguments. "When the woman saw..."

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Christ Jesus, I have wasted so much time and energy with words: adding them to my munitions, stockpiling them into ever changing combinations. And calling it learning. Or even wisdom. Then I bring them all into a battle that no one can win, except in delusional pretentiousness. Others might even praise me for the effectiveness of my word making. But it is mere word making nevertheless, impressive only at the shallow level at which conventional perception comfortably luxuriates.

Christ Jesus, may I please have some entrance into the resources that fueled Your way in awkward or dangerous interactions with others? You had a message, which was Yourself, and You had great wisdom to share. Your own presence and your way with people gave Your words true power. “The words I speak to you are spirit and truth.” I have spent too much time on the words, and far too little on belonging to The Word "that became flesh and dwelt among us." I want to partner with you now in beginning to correct that imbalance.

It seems that such a gift is unlikely to be misused. The very desire for it arises from a distaste for cheap personal triumphs. Please be increasingly the third – the Primary – participant in my conversations.