Fellowship Mountain

When I was 24, I would preach the gospel in Chicago projects, fearless and determined. And I had a 2 year old, Autumn, that was mine by blood, and 3 boys that I mentored, Perrion, Pierre, and Paris. Every Saturday, we watched Cinderella featuring Brandi, the Sound of Music, and went to NAVY Pier to walk and watch lake Michigan. I felt alive and strong and courageous. Then in 1999 strange things began to happen in my head. Pretty soon I felt like I had fallen off of the side of a mountain and broke of my emotional legs. And I lost beautiful memories and things went black, and suddenly I was at the mercy of healers who seemed to have neither the inclination nor the skills to get the job done. And I was lost. But there was one who was with me, who spoke to my soul, like Ezekiel did the dry bones of this culture’s compassion, and brought water to my spirit. But still I am afraid of fireflies and spiders, and I am afraid to walk in the very same nature that I once embraced as a child in the Jersey Suburbs. Yet this morning, I sang my youngest, a song from the Sound of Music, and though I could not remember all of the words, I remembered that I am back on the mountain, and my legs are almost well. And though many accuse me and mine of self pity, And though many would dream that all people were ,”strong and virile horses” who embraced the “American Spirit of Competition” like racers out of the gates. I tend to search for a more gentle solution. For you know, I am not fully back on my best game, searching like so many for a past when I was fully whole, hoping in a future where I am even more than I was before the beast had his way with my personhood. And in the meantime, I thank God for the journey. For though there may be times when I see it as easier to walk into a selfish darkness where the pain is gone, When I see people on the street, I know at least some of their suffering, and I know that God loves both them and me alike. For he has chosen us worthy of his loving touch and has given us the opportunity to fellowship in his sufferings. Amen.