Beneath each weekday’s theme is a principle that turns and catches the light like a diamond speared on an old 45 turntable

Within that light there are instructions to take you farther in and back, to the source of the The Great River that starts and ends in a moving standstill that’s more there for contemplation than understanding

Can you rest there, one foot in the Alpha, the other in the Omega and simply Be with whatever comes up?

Day before yesterday I dropped into the waters like a Wim Hof acolyte and did just that:

Watched as The Great River’s Delta spawned a thousand bridges to join parts of itself to Its Self;
Inhaled as a lattice of light joined all the ladder’s rungs in an iron workers dream, and exhaled as the foundation birthed an arena where the show was always already in progress.

It was a three act play that culminated in the battle scene in front of me:

On the left, famous 21st century christian apologistsarguing and auguring doubtless positions to win the masses to the camp of The One True God (c)

On the right, a tide of music that embraced the doubtless places with such compassion and empathy that those places literally cracked under the weight of their own certainty

Springsteen met Hanegraaff, Mozart met MacArthur, and Parker met Craig in the foam and wash of an especially holy riptide whose only egress was everywhere: out and in; up and down, in and out

And as the arena folded in on itself burying circle-of-fifths and Nicean Creeds, counterpoint and eschatology, I remained certain of three things:

Apologetics’ closed certainty was no match for music’s language of the heart,

Music’s language of the heart could never replace apologetic’s contribution to the Great River

And that which embraced it All would always be Home.

~

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