2023-09-08 A Meditation on Bellicose Gestures

“11 Therefore remember that at one time you Gentiles in the flesh, called “the uncircumcision” by what is called the circumcision, which is made in the flesh by hands— 12 remember that you were at that time separated from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. 13 But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. 14 For he himself is our peace, who has made us both one and has broken down in his flesh the dividing wall of hostility 15 by abolishing the law of commandments expressed in ordinances, that he might create in himself one new man in place of the two, so making peace, 16 and might reconcile us both to God in one body through the cross, thereby killing the hostility.” (Eph 2:11–16 ESV)

Various gestures, and one the provocation; one heightens the state of alert; one is slandered as bellicose. Yet our verve and attitude is not bellicose, rather we are as Christians hated for other reasons. We are hated because we turn murderous thoughts to Resurrection thoughts: those who predeceased us are to be glamorized as sent, as Heaven-bound, as obtaining of Eternal Rest. And we, we do not claim that rest for ourselves as of yet, but soldier on. We puzzle and work out our own salvation, seeking this day and finding these hours for the simple pain in each other’s lives. We flip the switch to blanket with light, that switch of a discourse interrupted in a sort of fashion, toggle to the knowledge and Love of the Lord. Conversation turns up a degree, the warmth is sensed as though prequel to a blast, our radius accommodating and love towards all who hear. We toggle; we blanket; we seek; we find.

To find that we lean determinedly on this our treasure, our religion. For its power to speak peace to the haggard and lonesome, to the worried and fretful. For its power to Hear, to hear what scoundrel thoughts are invading our circumference, our radius of prayer. Scoundrel fears and wants, all of our panoply of kaleidoscope experience vulnerable to a false theology of works. To believe in good works, is to invite flaw and bug in the system. It makes us bored and losers of some menial theology, some dastardly concession, some forgetfulness of an Encounter. That Encounter meant no longer to fuss as eyes roam and curiosity digs ruts of lust or murder or weaker attitude, our vulnerability to flattery, too impossible for those who are immature to face their need for assurance, their weakness in this regard a call for Peaceful willingness to go strongly into the night, into the next life, into the Service for these our fellows and gals. For them, yes. We are willing and desirous of a spark called Service. That spark that lights up the room. That gesture that was soup-to-nuts sincere, willing and able, and then the basking in passover, God has passed over the eternal Call Home, this hour granting us to labor on and forget that death penalty.

We were afraid, but now no longer: to receive pardon is also to receive a new gait to our step, and courage as neighbor draws near, to fear no evil but together Hope and ingratiate to the death sentence undone, unspelt, defeated, commonality found. We were known by our faith, our so-called fruits, our resilience uncommon and precious, not impatient but allocated peace, and found Here and Now.

Then to meld minds, is to allow and allot space in our lives to Hear. It is to contemplate an encounter, with sage and winsome Belief: indeed, this one is heaven sent; this one is more than the sum of their parts; this one is of a caliber and degree slightly beyond all that I might imagine in a peer. So to Jesus, who put up with weaker thoughts from His peers, that they might grow and enlarge upon the Call to rise up anointed and ordained. This is our hope spelt and blanketed freely unto others. This is our desire to give and give some more. This is our receipt of reciprocity, whilst some terrors in the night remind of an enemy who Hates, still we maintain our innocence: innocent to have gone full throttle to that Cross where we were graciously inducted into New Life. Innocent as to a former life that was careening and unstable, unhealthy and no cause to boast except in what fatherly, motherly, determination there was therein to brook the danger and abide the pain, to nurture and lead through the valley of doubts and despair, urgent medicine for weaker unconverted souls, later converted and proud to proclaim it was none of our own doing but that of our Friend and Father in Heaven, whose Son or Daughter hen (Matt 23:37) cared for us, made us courage for the fight, anointed and ordained us to be in possession of Right Knowledge, Persuasive Authority, Call and Consecration to don the uniform and make those harder decisions, in light of the Encounter and the Experience. We labor, as those passed over and inducted, fledgling knowledge courageous, bold to go forth strong despite its origins story being recent, on behalf of the many who cannot. And because simply it is our Call in life; no matter and no worry regarding whether anyone else is “saved”; we ourselves are evidently “saved” because look at our rising to the Call and the Attitude and the Consecration and the Uniform. He did it for us, to legitimize our strange talk and temperature-changing step.

The bellicose gesture: hear our “Sorry”. Hear our joy, in which the gesture originated, a joy not inimical but rather celebratory of something together and life. Something we, as we ramp down from the excitement, do whisper a prayer that you, the Other in the mix, would find similar celebration. Something to cause Joy. Some end to the hate and the murderous thoughts. Some resistance and time allotted to be personally discipled, our Bible not far from our reach, our dwelling place Divine and Permanent, unshakable and capable of forgiveness, of mourning, of hoping despite loss, of facing unthinkable sort of challenge, such challenge as only tries the faithful, it can seem.

We are tried because we believed. We are tested because we spoke peace and joy. We are slandered because we knew our own prodigality and errant storyline. It was no ambitious claim we made, only the claim that we were now receiving mercy; and that is a story that can be shared, and share we do.

Therefore the soldier is a beast to be reckoned with, a holy creature, an endowed fighter and believer. To believe is to ramp up the personal special notions of God on High, that we might better know Him and His will. That we might better intimate Peace and Hope unto others. That we may know our gentleness via our strength, the sword a sense of Purpose that begins in the calm gesture and the excited celebration. Not bellicose but warm. Not repellant but inviting. Not cagey but transparent. These are our possessions, a faith to be shared and a war to be joined against unbelief in all its manifestations.