Wishing Hell

I will it. We will it. They will it. God will it.

The will of God. How are we to know what it is? Recently, I had the displeasure of hearing an individual claim that those in leadership positions at churches are in such places because the congregation ought to trust that these people are able to hear God better than the average church member. “Adults versus children” was the the explanation of this statement. Perhaps it was such an outrageous claim that I was not able to process it fully at the time. A statement of this nature is the reason why the sect of American Christianity (Not pure Christianity, mind you) is one of the most detrimental elements to ever happen within our society. Harsh statement? Possibly. Don’t throw the baby out with the bath.

Any body or anybody that attempts to step between you and your creator, telling you they are the path to a better relationship with the Creator, is wrong. There, I said it. Thousands of years ago, there was no need for church steeples, sermons, or weekly small groups. Instead, it was the pure and simple connection between Creator and created. Man and God. Pure and unadulterated relationship. Just as the loving bond between a mother and child does not need fancy toys or expensive accessories for the bond to exist, so was the relationship between man and God.

Imagine, if you will, the child, sucking on the breast for nourishment in a state of complete dependency, as the mother offers herself in a pure and loving way to provide for her beloved. Beautiful. Tranquil. Love. The door slams open and representatives from Toys R’ us barge into the door with the grace and agility of an overloaded garbage truck, insisting the mother needs to provide better toys for her child in order for it to love her, or an ultra-portable crib for the baby to get its proper sleep. The baby begins to cry and scream as the noisy men break the tranquility of the once-peaceful scene. The men shove a pacifier into the mouth of the child, placing it into an automated swing to ease it into sleep. The mother watches as her child is forcibly replaced by man-made instruments in lieu of the human intimacy and nurture she one shared with her child. “My baby…” she whispers, as these rude intruders begin indoctrinating the child on the ways of materialism, greed, and entitlement. The brutes now turn to the mother, sheer malice in their eyes, as they drag her away from child as she screams out for child to never forget their first love. The door slams shut as her screams are muffled from reaching the ears of the child.

A forgotten first love.

 

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