2024-09-01 A Meditation on Lore

“25 Now there are also many other things that Jesus did. Were every one of them to be written, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written.” (John 21:25 ESV)

Time is taken for present awareness to catch up to the lore, lore being a mystical Furtherance, Extension, Outreach of just how and why plain Love meets us in our place of need. Our place of hopelessness, let’s face it, is the common denominator of angst, anxiety, depression, mania, neurosis, perhaps some might say even types of psychosis. That is: Lore spells relief in and of itself; it is patently Hopeful; patently Surreal; patently Bold. We are bold to be hearing ‘round the campfire and the camp, that mesmerizing recollection of things seen, things experienced, things celebrated, things recollected, that are all things Sagacious, Sanguine, Certain, cause for Gladness and a Grin on each face.

That is, what we are is plain for all to see, unapologetically soldiers of the Cross, soldiers of the Jesus Lore, soldiers of the Ministry: a patently peaceful ministry yet one bold to Address, to Attack, to Pray Over, to Surround all and every demonic influence in the welcomed and Good Name of the relief, of the deliverance, of the rescue squad. Lore binds together the bond of brothers and sisters; lore tells a nice story even amidst the bed-ridden one’s pain and distraction by said pain; lore fits in the “loser” or small person, because it invites them to live in the shadow of the Main Figures, the focal points of said Lore, and they too, the loser and the misfit, too fit into their own occasional bout of Lore.

And unto that Lore: that Jesus died upon a Tree. That no shouting was needed, no insistence was wrought, but plain ears perked unto anyone and anyhow that the Story might be recollected, writ in ink, restored, revealed. Plain ears hearing and celebrating that, yes, even One such as this, maligned and crucified (though it is true: with friends still “out there”), did return somewhat emaciated and powerfully feeble, to show Resurrection from the Dead as His final summary of all that He had preached. All the lore of His miracles. Summed up. All the lore of His plain eating and praying and withdrawal and sleep. All this and more, as, Socrates-like, He let others do the sleeping while He meditated and let’s face it, prayed a delightful brand of prayer called Imagination, called Optimistic Visitation, called Hope-Filled What-If’s.

A brand of prayer we, too, can arise to, and we, too, can share some lore of what Christ has done for us, even as it is true, our prayers, our retellings, our recollections, are somehow Gifted by Him to speak knowledgeably. Our recollections are made Wise as to how and why the healing occurred. He for all we know is content to be almost written out of the equation, yet here is where the Lore resumes: that He is back and in style, still our God and Father in Heaven, still our magisterial Miracle-Worker, still our grand entrance, solemn procession, patient fellowship hour, grateful prelude to a shared meal.

That He fed people: Lore. That He did things quite apropos to that generation’s sense of the mystical and the miraculous: Lore. That He trained up we His two millennia later followers to a similar appreciation of the miraculous: Lore. Our Lore, that He healed or made firm His presence in our lives. To stand there, tall and in charge, bold and enabled, is to stand there telling of some seed of inspiration, germ of excited testimony: the Lore of Him, His People, His kind of attitude, all this and more because Present was the King and Spiritual Leader; Bold was His truth-claim; Peace was His shouting match (a match notably so absent).