Come to the mountain, from far far away. Sit very still in the shade of day, and pray by the stars of night.
Our elevation here where i live 485 feet, so on certain days, we poke up into colder air and we get covered in a beautiful carpet of white snow, blowing in the strong wind, and building the depths of the snow into primally white, undisturbed.
There are many things to do during the day. By night, there is the stillness in which I am rooted, and the stars connect me with my Creator and my wishes that you should love Him, which is to be saved.
To be crucified served only the passing whims of brutality, not justice in the sense of doing something right, as opposed to something wrong. Yet I can still harbor pain in my body in specific places that turn my eyes to His Face again to remind me of why we are here, to serve our brothers and sisters. In the loving of them is justice which settles all scores and forgives all transgression in intercession, even if my brother and sister are not aware.
Indeed, the hiddenness of my crucifixion is the stillness in which I accept that I am crucified as I desired, and reconciled to my brothers and sisters in God as I hang dying. They may not even know they need to be rconciled with anyone, let along with God, but to make up for the lack of awareness, it is written down in the Heart of God to be remembered on some nameless day when judgement calls us to account and we rest or tremble in fear. But if that is all on which God was intent, I should be gravely disappointed, but as it it, I already feel His warmth as the water of my perspiration flows down from me, cold departing from me in a sleeping fog.
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It is possible to withdraw from a terrible shock that one never comes out of . I still encounter it, not daring to hope for consolation. The pain lingers, and the memory of the delight fades. Now I wait to grow enough to emcompass Jesus, and not just His consolations. I was so disappointed, I rejected Him. Those days were filled with consolations, delights, happiness, but I haven't grown up enough just yet. I wait in His shadow, in the garden I am awaiting Him in Himself, for something more