Post by Pilgrim Marc on Mar 12, 2009 13:48:39 GMT -5
The traveler.
Traveling, always traveling on.
No time, no need either for a ongoing standstill.
Traveler through the landscape with the name Christianity.
Traveling past building and Churches, ideas and fast forgotten hypes.
Traveling amazed about so many shortsightedness.
Watching how people by their theology made a carved image of the unseen God.
Just yesterday he walked through the dusty door in the world of history, where documents of past years where praised into magic.
Wat men wrote years ago became never to change stones of religion and judgement. Do it our way.
He was happy that the financial crisis of his time revealed that the lie of the prosperity gospel was indeed a lie.
O' we are so sure about our church our theology.
We follow worn out paths of ages old words that are not the bible.
Or we follow every miracle every new speaker, teacher, idiot.
Traveler could only shake his head, amazed not understanding.
Where were the people of the Way?
People not to afraid to aks God, not afraid for the doubt.
Who were not afraid to searching believe in the never changing foolishness of grace to great, to awesome to imprison in structures and denominations.
Traveler was not afraid to sit and eat at the table of many different believers, no matter how strange the menu was some times. But he did not stay seated, did not stuff himself.
Walking, moving on, keep on traveling.
Shabbat or Sunday, piercing or dark skirt and suit.
He did not care. Jesus, and not the the church, not Christianity should, if it was up to him, become more and more in the centre. Not de ways, not the forms but meeting each other became for him the starting point.
Traveling, some times past lonely roads, some times meeting a unexpected companion.
Some time joining a service, a season of being church in a certain form or way.
Staying free to travel, always on the the road.
And one day would he sit at the heavenly table, together with al those o so different Christians who had believed Jesus with their heart, made him visible with their mouth, hands and feet.
Laughing about the foolishness of how they had though on earth wat the right way was to follow Jesus.
Lifting the glass with sparkling new wine to God who is good, lifting the glass on grace that saved them.
Till that, till that day he kept on traveling.
Traveling, always traveling on.
No time, no need either for a ongoing standstill.
Traveler through the landscape with the name Christianity.
Traveling past building and Churches, ideas and fast forgotten hypes.
Traveling amazed about so many shortsightedness.
Watching how people by their theology made a carved image of the unseen God.
Just yesterday he walked through the dusty door in the world of history, where documents of past years where praised into magic.
Wat men wrote years ago became never to change stones of religion and judgement. Do it our way.
He was happy that the financial crisis of his time revealed that the lie of the prosperity gospel was indeed a lie.
O' we are so sure about our church our theology.
We follow worn out paths of ages old words that are not the bible.
Or we follow every miracle every new speaker, teacher, idiot.
Traveler could only shake his head, amazed not understanding.
Where were the people of the Way?
People not to afraid to aks God, not afraid for the doubt.
Who were not afraid to searching believe in the never changing foolishness of grace to great, to awesome to imprison in structures and denominations.
Traveler was not afraid to sit and eat at the table of many different believers, no matter how strange the menu was some times. But he did not stay seated, did not stuff himself.
Walking, moving on, keep on traveling.
Shabbat or Sunday, piercing or dark skirt and suit.
He did not care. Jesus, and not the the church, not Christianity should, if it was up to him, become more and more in the centre. Not de ways, not the forms but meeting each other became for him the starting point.
Traveling, some times past lonely roads, some times meeting a unexpected companion.
Some time joining a service, a season of being church in a certain form or way.
Staying free to travel, always on the the road.
And one day would he sit at the heavenly table, together with al those o so different Christians who had believed Jesus with their heart, made him visible with their mouth, hands and feet.
Laughing about the foolishness of how they had though on earth wat the right way was to follow Jesus.
Lifting the glass with sparkling new wine to God who is good, lifting the glass on grace that saved them.
Till that, till that day he kept on traveling.