2024-06-01 A Meditation on Class-Blind Service

“9 “When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap your field right up to its edge, neither shall you gather the gleanings after your harvest. 10 And you shall not strip your vineyard bare, neither shall you gather the fallen grapes of your vineyard. You shall leave them for the poor and for the sojourner: I am the Lord your God.” (Lev 19:9-10 ESV)

Afforded some space, and with such space so benign, the mind can range and go for wonder. Each of us may dare to believe, and in this faith-system to uncover illustrious principles and moral compass that is strangely attracted, like a magnet, to any and all range of life circumstances in the Saved soul. The Saved soul’s purview indeed encompasses no excuses. The Saved soul’s environs richly endow with Compass and Moral breath of fresh air. We breathe… and intake healthsome Viewpoint, Moral Tone, Compass, and Magnetron from each other’s strangely life-endowed, in situ, Code.

We are right and true, even though hard-pressed. We make no excuses, knowing that in some strange way the life so hard and so fleeting, is not itself a barrier to a life also Principled and Gladsome. Early damage, in the neighbor or peer, patiently is worked over just by “being there”; and when some tone in the air all around, all in the streets we walk and transit we ride, changes, when the prophetic one or animated lover starts to squawk… that early damage is reminder: today, if you hear His voice… harden not your hearts, but answer the Call, and thereby save society—and family—from a lifetime of trying to make up for what was damaged early, what was omitted cruelly, what was obviated in ignorance.

Then to that Principled perch, the Stance moral, the Gospel gladsome and benign. Strange though each of us have our respective burdens, for some glimpsed Tomorrow’s War Today, we can see far and hopefully, we can see broad and winsomely, we can see wide and lovingly. And that “health”—that oh-my-gosh tantric mantra of blissful eternal reverie—it serves as service to the fellows in arms, to each other Outfitted in the guise yet a little thirsty this hour for some proper write-up or Word from the troops. Someone… all of us… to pray ex temporaneously, is to know no cagey withdrawal into our own sphere of thoughts, even if those thoughts are solemnly divine, but knowing the Saved Soul of the soldiering classes, is already wealthy beyond compare, and called upon simply to get down to the business of Sharing—if possible—with the gladsome exchange of troop unto trooper.

The early damage, then, the hope a few words in season might serve as correctives, might serve as Replacement Ideology or Parenting Anew, might also combat the flat-out absolute state of party-minded Sin. That is, to some the addict’s bouts are simply a lust for party spirit. Yet party spirit is also oblivious spirit, a spirit immune and endeared unto professing the love for the sistren and the brethren. A party spirit is indeed so early panicky around any fault in communication or hesitance or ill word: “I’m sorry!” is screamed, and that often. So we each of us attend to the perch unsober in Spiritual measure, ex temporaneous in Animated loving manner, Third Eye in overcoming tone. We overcome and find wide fields to pasture in, to graze in, strangely to love and live and win in, though our hardships would seem cause to make excuses: no time to be moral, no rich spaciousness in which to be principled, no solemn reflective time in which to serve.