“16 “I have said all these things to you to keep you from falling away. 2 They will put you out of the synagogues. Indeed, the hour is coming when whoever kills you will think he is offering service to God. 3 And they will do these things because they have not known the Father, nor me. 4 But I have said these things to you, that when their hour comes you may remember that I told them to you. The Work of the Holy Spirit “I did not say these things to you from the beginning, because I was with you. 5 But now I am going to him who sent me, and none of you asks me, ‘Where are you going?’ 6 But because I have said these things to you, sorrow has filled your heart. 7 Nevertheless, I tell you the truth: it is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Helper will not come to you. But if I go, I will send him to you. 8 And when he comes, he will convict the world concerning sin and righteousness and judgment: 9 concerning sin, because they do not believe in me; 10 concerning righteousness, because I go to the Father, and you will see me no longer; 11 concerning judgment, because the ruler of this world is judged.” (John 16:1-11 ESV)

Hair-brained schemes and guilt-ridden plots: living in the moment matches the Dutiful One to a game of musical chairs and of blinding get in and get out mentality: the pillars are about to fall, and someone will be left holding the blame. Someone, like ourselves who have made the Epic Decision to Serve, to lance forth unhindered and turn someone else’s hairbrained no-go zone and scheme into a pride-laden plot: a point of Service and Duty, pride of place and whispering accolades when for but a moment we see Nirvana… only to find at once, the world is ten percent of the way there, five percent: we can clasp ahold of and work in service to this Vision for a lifetime. For generations. For some gauntlet of Love passed down from parent to child and brother to brother, sister and brother to sister and brother.

Because it was, after all like the child in mama’s arms who sees the aliens looking over mom’s shoulder, who is in a stunning mesmerizing Vision that no one else is aware of, and we… the forlorn washerwoman or handyman included, make no spectacle of what Alien Lifeforms we observe, we play games with, we dialog and interlocute with.

It is close to the error zone, this unguilty ploy: soon, the gauntlet will drop and the music will stop and who—not us!—is left holding the blame? So we careen out of the starting gates with alacrity and poise, never forgetting to polish our shoes and tuck our shirt in, to perfect the tie or the bow, because Strange Days are ours to own and live into. We live into the Tomorrow, because our determined, principled, Vision of declaratory War, is a deadening blow to Sin. Yet we will be called the Belligerent. We will be slandered as the hawk. What is a hawk, though, but a Dove who is a little more Honest: that already our regrettable war has been declared, and that not necessarily by Us? They want us to grin and look away while the slow onslaught persists. While the slow compromise persists. While the slow abuse persists.

We are those Possessed of hair-brained schemes turned Righteous. All of us: to live in the moment is to bear glad tidings to a lifetime spent—lets be honest—in real pain and unhinged Faultlines. Yet we live in the moment, not for once remembering, even, to cry and complain. Because we learned long ago that Life—this life, gifted us by those who invested their own dreams in the younger generation—is a Reward and the compromised Status that our enemies would never let abide without bitter complaining, is a compromised Status we take in stride. We are Coping, some would say… let’s say this: that some Truths are too difficult for the therapist’s couch, even. Some are making a mockery of any and all claims to have a judiciary and an advocate. And such victims, survivors, persistent ones, were some of us. Because we ceased—the more we were victimized, the less we protested—to raise ruckus of a selfish complaining bent, and instead found Nirvana and Day’s Peace in the day-to-day.

The time for leveling the playing field may be past. The era for righting all wrongs, may be in the rearview mirror. The epoch for easy accolades is certainly bygone. Because we will be blamed and hounded, accused and Judged, all for some “crime” we could not help but commit. We could not help but Lance Forth with a Meaningful Diatribe and Cause. Our casus belli is well-understood, by all comers, indeed, but here is where the rubber hits the road: many are secret scoffing Agents of a foreign crown. They scoff at the sharp wit and purposeful declaratory War of our men and our women, suddenly showing their own Flag and Colors in a strange, wildly foreign and revelatory way: we are Shocked! That these spying nebulae would be so ingrained and planted. That these “peace, peace” types would deny the checkpoint and the simple “trust but verify” beginnings—just the beginnings—of a step into the Morrow. So they show themselves when for once, no longer sleepy, we get down to work. And then… what is the fact of your family’s long bouts with Pain and Hurt, what is the fact of your own having been passed over for promotion or admittance, what is the fact of the painful breakup or the stark contrasting Principles? All this, and we gladly lance forth, because we have a Peace of the sort that descends on the innocently observing ones, a Peace that literally drives others to war around us. Because the more abuse we suffer, the more forgetful we become of our Plaintive complaining stand. We have learned to abide a radical illogic, and here to find our Tomorrow Battle.