Who said…

It’s the story of your life, right? Voices. Lots of voices, telling you do this, don’t do that. Who can you trust and who do you put a ten-foot pole in front of before you even get them to say something, anything, remotely nice?

In the Hebrew creation narrative of the man and woman in the garden, there is an interesting thought which pertains to this posting. You might recall how the couple ate the fruit which they had been commanded not to eat and then hid themselves in the garden when the presence of God came on His daily walk. God asks why they were hiding, and the man says it was because they were naked. God’s response to them is, “Who said that you were naked?”

Man, woman, and God. That is all who, according to the story, reside in this world. Let me put this in a different manner: Man is made in the image and likeness of God; woman is crafted from man, therefore, is also in the image and likeness of God. As far as God is concerned, the only being residing in the garden is…

With God there is no other, literally. I’m not say that there is no other god. I’m simply stating a fact: God doesn’t see an “other.” Sure, you can look out your window and see “others” moving in this world, but who said they are “other?” Not God!

Let’s face it, we have an “other” issue which, when boiled down, is narrated in a me-versus-them mentality. Racial, gender, sexual preference, income status, political bias, nationality, and so many supplementary divides permeate our world for what reason? To declare “other?” Or, is it to define our perceived vulnerability?

How many voices daily do you hear correcting your actions, preventing you from expressing your true nature, enflaming your wrath for a past injury to your emotional well-being? How many of these voices are merely from your past, people you don’t even see anymore, voices that only spoke to you once?

Furthermore, how many voices tell you should act now before it’s too late; tell you that you’re not beautiful enough unless you use their (fill in the blank); tell you that you’re not sexy, affluent, mature, carefree, studious, hungry, too hungry, tired, sick, awake, feeling right, or anything else advertising wants you to hear about your lack which only their product can fulfill?

In that garden, God only sees his reflection. There is no other to give voice to that image. Silence. Who broke the silence of being?

Silence is a big deal these days, primary because we can’t seem to find it, or once found, we can’t accept it. Contemplation, the art of shutting up to hear a real voice, confounds most. It’s art simply because it develops mental muscle to recognize all the voices we hear in our head and give priority to. It confounds simply because we’ve been so saturated with stuff which we thought was us, that when the realization of outside influences are exposed, we feel tainted.

Elijah experienced this. After dispatching the prophets of Baal, he high-tailed it to the wilderness to escape the threats of Jezebel. Finding himself in a cave, he hears a voice simply ask, “Why are you here?” Have you ever heard that voice of question in the deep, dark place of your hiding? If you have, you probably did the exact same thing Elijah did – justify your actions. But to what end?

In Elijah’s case it produced first a mighty strong wind which ripped the mountains apart; followed by an earthquake and then a firestorm – manifestations of self-made god. Whenever we try to justify ourselves, the wind of our voice will rip through what we possess tossing everybody into the maelstrom it creates. This will shake the very foundations of the belief people have in us and will cause passions to rise until nothing recognizable remains in the smoldering ashes of our intent. Then, after the carnage and purifying it requires has happened, we will, just as Elijah experienced, hear the still small voice of the gardener call us out of the depths of our self-imposed darkness.

Note to self: self-imposed is the “other” you are not.

Joh 17:22 And the glory which you have given me I have given unto them; that they may be one, even as we are one.

It takes time and humility to turn away the voices of our own discourse in order to reveal the voice of a true calling we been placed upon the planet to complete. We’ve endured many good stories about our successes and failures; rights and their weather-worn glories; injustices and the stale prejudices they promote. There have been stories told of adventures, disappointments, regrets and cherished moments all of which puncture the still mundane routine of life. Each has a voice, a narrator, a director and script writer embellishing the prosaic life we lead. Rarely, are we able to stop with the edits long enough to listen to the voice of the gardener quietly ask, “Who said why are you here?”