There are moments in time that seem to come too little and far in between. These are the moments when everything makes such clear sense, when I feel my soul is able to hold to what is true, right—and all else becomes mere shadows, just drifting…not solid at all really, they seem very unreal and imagined. Those imaginary shapes—constructed by fear, rejection, pain, confusion, greed—are all the kinds of evil that the hearts of men float in sorrow upon.
In these short time spans, I clearly understand that these are simply shadows to cloud the mind and bind the spirit. While leaning upon these foundations in depression, a man can never know reality or what it feels to live naturally. Yet in the dark, a man never knows that they are shadows, nor ever knows shadows. He does not know the pillar of the need for adrenalin rush is simply cast by the desire for an exhilarating life led by the Spirit of God. That hidden knowledge of the kingdom of God is within all men, and each man in darkness seeks that mysterious truth, yet in the darkness he stumbles, blinded by his ignorance, he does not know he rests on shadows—figments of his delusional mind. He does not know the food he eats is poison, or that his daily routine is simply a slow death. The men he thinks are friends are really feeding off him, little leaches come to suck his energy as an enemy would. Oh the ugliness of that world! The futility of all attempts of escape! How the shadows have ensnared us all!
But I find if a man looks to the light, it is easier to distinguish between the solid forms and the fake silhouettes. It is as if the whole world is under some ancient cast spell that has numbed them to true beauty. Man no longer knows beauty in her true forms with true characteristics. Beauty, above all, is True, Just, and Righteous. It is Pure, Holy, and Glorious. Inevitably, Beauty must have some sort of sacrifice. Some labor or forfeit must be involved.
What can truly be termed as Beautiful? Well, when a man sees in the light, all things are made whole and seen for their genuine appearance. The Light, who is also the light-giver, then must be the illuminating source to Beauty. With him as our ever-giving radiance, we learn by example. No better love has a man than to lay down his life for a friend. What can be more Beautiful than a savior, a hero, if you will? Life will afford us only one opportunity to die for another physically. But we are blessed with chances each day to die other ways, usually with our egos. How much of my flesh dies with each time the phrase, “I forgive you,” leaves my mouth? My selfishness breathes its last when I put my pain aside to share in yours; to let you know I care, when I need you to say the same. Surrender, what a paradox! To give up, yet gain. I grow stronger with each broken moment. To shed my thorns of protection in order that pure vulnerability can begin to bloom in my life. Then my petals will invite others to come closer, so that they may be touched, held, and comforted. Life becomes a beautiful journey of honor, of nobility, a quest of adventure. Oh but how the Beauties are shaded by the shadows, and how these moments of clarity are fleeting.
But a man can hope for a time, perhaps soon coming, when we can grasp Beauty by her hand, and allow Her to lead us down the path of redemption.
[Spring ‘05]
