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News headlines – like miracles – are always of the “major incident” kind.  Another atrocity here, another tragedy there, another shooting here, another bombing there …

And the miracle(s)?  Thanking God for saving “me” (even though a mosque – in this case – is not about “our God” at all).

Which means God (or “their god” in this case) must have: a) allowed the atrocity, b) selected whose time was up, c) whose was not, d) and does so in each and every case.

>>> I accept that “using” this “tragedy” is “insensitive” for those “directly involved”.  It’s just that I am not sure when “enough time” will “have passed” to make “using it”  “appropriate”.  So I apologise if you are upset or offended.  That is not my intention. 

I think we have an odd relationship with our corporate deity.  Always reminds me of “superstition”:

“The bogeyman gonna getcha!” “No he ain’t ‘am wearing ma lucky prayer pants!”

Because Superstition and Sin – for me – go hand-in-hand.  They are interchangeable and make my relationship with God “corporate” rather than personal.

“God will save me (and you and you over there)!” (other than the ones He lets die)

I prayed that my Dad wouldn’t die when he was diagnosed with terminal cancer.  But it’s tricky having enough faith to make God do it.

Because “having enough faith” means NOT expecting God to deliver.  So expecting God to deliver is not having ENOUGH faith.  Which means it’s not necessarily going to happen either way.  And having ENOUGH faith means keeping a stiff upper-lip no matter the result.  Except we actually get very angry with Him when He doesn’t deliver.  When HE decides that the life we loved so much wasn’t worth Him saving.  My dad died.

But I wasn’t angry with “God”.

For reasons I still don’t understand and without any planning or much talking – I spent three months away from my family but supported by them – three months away from work and fully supported by them – three months of being fully supported to live with my Dad.

Three months of the most delightful time of my life.  A time when Dad and I became more than “Dad and I”.  When the labels were still there but the reality was of love without condition in complete safety and no judgement.  A safe place wherein we each were intensely vulnerable to the other – yet weren’t vulnerable at all – a place where that intimate vulnerability was strength for both of us.  Those three months were a gift I treasure now and always.

How can I be angry at “God”?

Because anger is of transaction – is of conditions – is of something less than the unconditional loving relationship (now without any “sin” getting in the way) I have chosen.

And just like “God” – and who is “God” – and “why God” at all …

I have no answers that prove anything to anyone.  We each make up our own mind.  We each choose our beliefs.  We each put down beliefs and pick up new ones.  We each protect certain beliefs with the ferocity of a mother for her cubs.

(and I have no explanation for that lack of logic either)

I think that is why I keep coming back to love …

The “being” of love … the eternity of love in the moment … the simplicity of that eternity … the kindness of that eternity … the living of that eternity in that moment … the “wholeness” of that moment and all it offers.

Something my Dad told us long before he died – when he was still just “dad” and we were all just “son or daughter”.

When he was a young – news of “atrocity and tragedy” took time to reach him.  His life and beliefs were based on what happened around him (rather than the other side of the world).  He pondered how the easy reach of instant news – news ALWAYS selected for its “atrocity and tragedy” content – had changed us.

And I think he has something.

Because in my own lifetime I was brought up with no internet at all.  And now I “google it” without any thought at all.  Nor could I have ever imagined writing these words – pressing “publish” – and someone in Australia … India … USA … Canada … around the corner … in the next street … reading MY words!  I have community here stronger than a lot of face-face relationships.  And that changes me.

And I have to remember that “how I change” is my choice.

Because living more and more in the moment – the less I worry about the superstitions of religion – the more childlike I become.  And that allows me to allow you to be responsible for your own choice of beliefs … and THAT allows me to responsible for my own choice of beliefs …  And that amazing “my choice” in all things …

I love more and more!

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