I can’t tell you about it. Because then I would seem petty. And truly—it is not your business. And it is not public knowledge. We don’t share these things.
It is, however, the source of most of my questions and concerns about what I am planning on doing. It’s not easy—deciding to put myself out like that. It is as if they will ask to know your life story—and then burn you for your individuality. When can a witch hunt see the truth when it is so full of hate and fear?
It is not as if these individuals are inherently evil. They are responding to the Powers present in the world.
Isn’t a part of each of us just responding to the power we feel pressing against us?
And yet, when that power presses in on us, we don’t see it. We see the person we came to the Table with, and we don’t understand where it is all coming from.
It stymies me. It takes me by surprise. It is not expected. It seemed that we could be part of the same family—and now you want to cast me out. Out of home, out of comfort, out of all that would seem to make sense in this world.
And so I am burned at stake.
And I am drowned, because I don’t float. Because none of us floats in our own power. We cannot do it while we are chained and bound to the weights that keep us below the surface. Unable to breathe, we gasp in and swallow great amounts of all the hate and scorn washing over us.
It is not fun.
But sometimes—I think I am signing up for it.
It is not as though I had any choice in the matter. It is what I am supposed to be living my life for. And so when I am attacked for this life I have chosen, with the chosen people, I am taken by surprise. This isn’t the way it was supposed to be. And yet, it is.
I live in a reality that allows these things to happen.
We can’t help the reality. We can work to make our part of it more like what God intended, but in the end, we are not at the final end.
Caught in the not yet, we are blinded to the already.
And so hearing the refrain of “not yet:”
Do I get to know my future?
Do I get to feel at peace?
Do I get to rest in comfort?
It seems that anything I was already doing is hopeless. And pointless. And that I don’t get to be who I want to be. Who God intended me to be. I am partially there—but what I thought was going to be rest turned out to be only a pause. I have the rest of my journey ahead of me—and it seems that the way will not be smooth.
I get caught in my confusion and turned around and lost.
And the Not Yet feels like a Never Again.
But I have hope that when I step, the road will be there to meet me. And I have faith that as I journey on, it may not get easier, but I’ll have someone walking alongside me, already teaching me the way to go.