“Every brawl I had was beating back at a world I thought had done me wrong. Yeah. Every bruise on my face, every drop of blood I bled was proof of my war against God’s injustice. Now I know my suffering was a gift from God. Now I know that sounds like bull but its coming from a man in a wheel chair...so you got to entertain me. Hear me out.
All our outer nature is wasting away. But our inner nature is being renewed everyday
This life no matter how long it lasts, is a momentary affliction preparing us for eternal glory. We shouldn’t pray for an easy life, but the strength to endure a difficult one. BECAUSE THE EXPERIENCE OF SUFFERING IS THE FULLEST EXPRESSION OF GOD’S LOVE. IT’S A CHANCE TO BE CLOSER TO CHRIST. NO ONE SUFFERS PERFECTLY . FOR SURE NOT ME..”
We saw this one last night, a brutally honest biopic on the rough life and events of a real Stu- maybe a tad over done in the dept of foul mouthed convos with dysfunctional parents (& Mel Gibson):
every other word is slang (‘cuss’ – they dont like the word ‘curse’ for some delicate reason) – on the sexual act (whoever thought that’d convey human frustration, near manages to totally rob them self of any pleasure associated with the act meant to be nothing but sacred sublime).
But there you are. Thats reality, in FBYQZs– for some reason I’ll never understand. Though it makes me see a slice of hell and its dedicated service to the desecration of all things pure-
given that impurity is considered death-cool now, one is left with a spirituality that must wear indifference like skins-full of tattoos;
oh..merge All in one pot, pick your flavor of the day: one day the god of war, the next – a white flag touting the Cross…maybe worn upside down too. Our versions of the Cross may have nothing to do with Redemption. In fact it may be used as a gang symbol, or a grafitti – purple invite for a seance. Who knows. I don’t,
I’m the remnant that only surfaces with joy when the Hand of the Almighty has touched me, with His heart.
So Father Stu’s story (best watched if you can stomach Pain spelt Cusswords), in its last 40 mins, promises Reality like I’ve not heard, or seen in the longest time.
Its like when you’ve had the worst headache and nothing stops it, then you get a Balm. Not Tiger balm,
this one is the King of the Jungle Balm- it gets in the pores of your temple bones and sears your veins with itself: you breathe, you’re unknotting.
Its this ‘Unknotting’ I know as Comfort, the Spirit of Comfort, that unlocks our mangles like nothing else can:
this Impossible Solution, unimagined Relief, Release from soil / soul congestion,
It defines Spirituality for me. Its the ache that reveals the Cure, the skull hill of Golgotha, that smashes open the grave of Christ…& ours;
this for me is Spirituality. Ask me why Christ:
He’s the Balm. No one else did that for me. If a Pipal Tree, or River, or Thor, or Myna or Mary, or St.Aleya did anything super normal like that, this would’ve been about them. Can’t mix them up, they’re not potpourri.
My poet friend won’t like this. His spirituality is when he wants to inhale candles, his God is a spa for skin care and etc. My poet friend pooh poohs Heaven but dresses like hell, firmly believes in it, complete with tattooed 666s, flaming nails, 4 gold teeth for effect, and verses that would make lesser demons blush.
What’s Spirituality anymore: a blend of varied herbs on a hot day; a feel-good mantra to get us thru bad news, a bottle of holy water from Moya’s St.Aunt; a scarf from a pilgrimage, a bottle of old monks, a table full of yearly thanksgiving, a rehearsed chant of Psalm23, what’s Spirituality at all, if its just as personal as my toothbrush,
but that it guarantees an absolute Peace that surpasses human understanding?
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