“26 And above the expanse over their heads there was the likeness of a throne, in appearance like sapphire; and seated above the likeness of a throne was a likeness with a human appearance. 27 And upward from what had the appearance of his waist I saw as it were gleaming metal, like the appearance of fire enclosed all around. And downward from what had the appearance of his waist I saw as it were the appearance of fire, and there was brightness around him. 28 Like the appearance of the bow that is in the cloud on the day of rain, so was the appearance of the brightness all around. Such was the appearance of the likeness of the glory of the Lord. And when I saw it, I fell on my face, and I heard the voice of one speaking.” (Eze 1:26-28 ESV)

All halos aside, there is always the guesswork of relics, actionable Advances, deeds wrought and writ in stone, as the testimonial of the saints. For, to some it is heresy, that might-makes-right would obliviate the Respect due art or due patient peacemaking. Peacemaking earned, not some outlandish weakling spirit but the fruit of genuine life experience wherein all comers share in the bounty, all comers have a dog in the fight, all comers need see that the plaintive news anchor or testifier is in warpaint already. Even in their seemingly weaker guise. Even in their failure to Answer up to the questions: why not Attack? Why not shows of force? Why the olive branch and why the dove?

Yet to see that halos indeed lance forth in freeze-frame modalities, lighting bolts and colorful dioramas, of the stern no-nonsense gardener who is pruning and praying and sternly Tending Garden. To see this, it is to put aside all the “guesswork”, the “I said it first”, the empty mocking sermons that seem only to gape at Power and little else. True, there is Power in Christ’s Atoning Sacrifice. True, there is Power in the tongues and in the ways they are used to good effect to Speak, to Teach, to Share, to Congratulate. But we are mocked and humbled, by the more stern countenance, countenancing Machiavellian response, only to us the only thing worse than being feared is the fear of falling away. We are tempted. We are flattered by our progress, better said this way, by the Observed void to fill with the flirtatious or with the wild off-hand actions or deeds, ill-thought out or somehow too distantly prophetic. We try and be “Normal”. We walk away from the Repartee, the Encounter, reliquaries, deeds writ in stone aside.

The marriage supper of the Lamb is no cute cry for help finally rewarded, but rather Womanhood, Manhood, Personhood, celebrated in the fullness of what it is, not nervous but rather anxious for response; not bullish but rather headstrong for the warpaint; not deflationary but rather Progressive, sanguine, listening, propelling Forward.

The marriage of two former ballast points, each heavy and mighty in their own right but somehow not realizing: “You it was I was missing in my life”. The fearmongering and Machiavellian response, this no proof of All Things, of Ultimate Authority, but rather a sadder reality, that folks run rampant and errant if left to their own guile and devices. Perhaps. Too, however, is the trust networks rewarded, the two or three parts of a Trinity at work, the intuition as to what or towards whom the Master’s Will is directed.

The Master surprises us with the proximity. The Master, we honor as All Things, because the Halo, because the lighting bolts, because the ad infinitum faces and countenances, all things to all people, yet meek, rather, Gardening; rather, Tending estate; rather, seeing peaceable Amazing gifts give to would-be enemies, of a home town, of a little city, of a state. All this as we award our better angels the “Job well-done, fellow citizen of these states”. For the temptations known and manifestly avoided. For the certainty: ain’t no junk made ‘round here. God don’t make no junk. More, that it is a sign of many right choices, that a person be in power. We dare experience and observe. Sometimes. Because Machiavelli, he had much right, but also we temper our fright zones, our horror stories, with our peaceful Encounters. The militant minds joining up. The thinking caps willingly doffed, donned, shared and passed around. The working class in some amazing forward Encounter with the intellectual. The Establishment in lockstep with the surveyor, with the secretive, with the Legitimate Constraints on Power and the Good Governance. We wonder: in the hour of trial, as the city is repulsing attack, will I be sanguine and Patient? Will I hear the alternate Viewpoint? Will I think through the explanations in generous fashion? Or will I have some deeply-affirmed faith, God don’t make no junk: we are creatures trained to be impulsive and decisive. We fall into the arms of a celebration of that same Human Spirit, Human Frame, Human Circumstance, that, like a fine wine, Encounters and Decides and Wars most politely. We are each of us so fine for the years of maturing, aging, coming to the helm of the ship and certain of the group-minded nature of God’s family.

Each of us has a vision for some ballgame played, no matter if enemy or friend, that we toss them a pitch to see their swing. To see what they have to say. To see them Engage and try and slide into base. To see yardage gained and heft pushing back. To see that courageous Vision for the society, for the city already so well shared and experimental, no Man-In-Charge beyond the realms of what civil society allows, because life springs Eternal. Life flourishes in little back alleys and cul de sacs. Life… it is secret, the times and places of God at work. And in a wink of the eye, in a heartbeat, we look back on our own trying times, our aging, our tutelage, our hours in formation, and thank God for such blessedness such as pleases and rewards even the unfortunate in life’s circumstances. Let no one be jealous of good cheer, for to some tonight we shall sup with the Master (to quote English martyr Hugh Latimer).