Tag Archives: seeking

The God Box ~ Part the Third

The next stop along my journey was a similar denomination but one with a slightly different point of view. You did not fall from grace with every odd transgression. Oh, no! You were safe and secure for all eternity regardless of the choices you made. Of course, you had to be a member. A baptized member.

“That’s very nice that you were baptized by immersion, but that church doesn’t believe the same things we do.”

Isn’t that interesting?

Gift 3

Here was another box. As long as you were a member of this club, you were safe for eternity. There was protocol to follow to become a member, of course. It required an obligatory walk down the aisle during the church service and an agreement to undergo the ceremonial baptism into the church. Yes, that was my interpretation, and I openly shared that thought with the kind lady who was supposed to lead me into my “new life.” The poor soul became perplexed and worried about the requirements of man versus the requirements of God. Not a good start for a supposedly new convert. I tried to put her at ease, and silently vowed to watch my tongue in order to avoid unwanted controversy. Who wants to be kicked out before you’re even a member?

A weary sense of apathy crept in. This was an extremely trying time in my life, for a number of reasons. Not only was my personal and business life in a major tangle, I suffered the church’s opinion of divorced women. A professional woman in Texas working in commercial real estate. Living alone. Could I possibly be any more immodest?

How I could be safe in the arms of Jesus forever and yet, well, be a yet-to-be-defined fallen woman, was a bit of a quandary for me. Who I was and what my needs might be appeared to be the farthest thing from anyone’s mind.

As long as I presented myself as a modest professional woman, one who was not on the prowl for eligible, upstanding bachelors in the church, then my contributions to choir, school buses, and refinancing of the church property, where accepted gracefully. I was tolerated as a business person of some influence, but not as a woman who might be interested in friendship or companionship. It was a church attended by a number of influential business people, and eventually I viewed the organization as little more than a service club with a cross on the door.

Resisting the tide was beyond my strength at that time. It was easier to “go through the motions” of being a good Christian. I attended church, sang in the choir, offered professional services at huge discounts, or for free when appropriate. The only place anyone wanted my opinion was in the Sunday School class. I sought some blend of honesty, and non-confrontation. Now and then, I run across notes from that teacher in my old files and realize that someone was listening, and that I did have some small bit to contribute. All without realizing the influence I did have.

I managed to tolerate this state of affairs for several years. The church demanded little of me at a time in my life when I had little to give. Eventually, I looked inside this new box, and I found no God. In fact, I had a hard time finding me. I needed more. A great deal more.

That box had to go.

The God Box ~ Part the First
The God Box ~ Part the Second
The God Box ~ Part the Fourth
The God Box ~ Part the Fifth
The God Box ~ Part the Sixth


Filed under Humanties for the Unbound Mind, My Journey with Job, Personal Journeys

30 Cubed – The Seeker



So, I’ve managed to get myself into a writing exercise for the month of May.  Coming out of a really tough accounting season, it is time to stretch my wings and get back in the habit of communicating words instead of numbers.  There are few rules, speculative fiction (something that is new for me), 30 stories in 30 days based on 30 different characters.  Yes, I know, we’ll call this writing boot camp!  In any case, here is my offering for day one.  I hope you enjoy the journey.

In the early morning the mountain pass was cool and just a bit frosty. We had spent the night dancing close to the raging camp bon fires. Sleep did not come in the close, cramped quarters of the small tents while the smoke from the then smoldering fires burned the eyes and filled the lungs. As unpleasant as the thought seemed, plunging into the cold mountain stream in the early dawn light was a pleasure and did much to clear the head. The question, of course, was whether or not I wanted a clear head on this particular day.

The sun had not yet reached the horizon when we climbed up onto the woolen saddles of our yaks. The trek into the mountains would take many hours and there were those who would need to return. Our caravan included 21 yaks; as it must on any holy mission. Seven animals bore packs of vegetables, cured meats and tanned hides. Seven animals bore those hoping to enter life as ascetics and seven bore the escorts.  As it happens, I was the lone woman among those whose purpose was to seek the favor of the ancient ones.

Why, you might ask, would you risk such a thing? Once the high mountain valleys are reached, the escorts turn back. Those who wish to seek the three cycles of learning are left with nothing but the supplies on the pack animals. No weapons, no utensils, no guides. Few ever returned and those that did were obviously mad. Most ascetics were chosen by lot; sometimes whether or not the choice was their own. There were whispers that the whole exercise was nothing more than an offering to the ancient gods that we as a people professed to have left behind.

Why, I asked, would we sacrifice a human life to a faceless god? My teacher asked me to think more kindly on those less knowing. “Perhaps,” he responded, “it is in hopes the gods will accept our choice and not make one of their own.” I thought on this as we road higher into the valleys. But I was not here to become a sacrifice for god or man. No lot had been assigned me, I was one of the very few volunteers to ever make this journey. I had my own plans. I was here to find the source of madness or joy, to find that creature or being that controlled our daily lives and to find a way to set us free.


Filed under My Fiction - Very Short Fiction