What Compels Me


Painting a lavender field in Sonoma Wine Country

A friend commented to me yesterday, “I am amused by your daily scriptural postings. What do you hope to accomplish?” I could see where she was coming from. Given how things are going these days when lies are peddled as the truth; low morals (or no morals at all) are par for the course; where scoundrels and thieves lord it over the nations; where killing and murder become official state policy; where evil seems to be triumphing over goodness. What can words from thousands of years ago do to make this situation better? What difference would they make?

I am doing it mainly for myself. I am totally lost in this sea of confusion and even degeneracy. I need an anchor to tie me down safely in this tempest. I need a guiding light to see me through the darkness. I have seen the power of these words and of the person who spoke them to help people weather such tempest and darkness. I seek courage and consolation in this person I have decided to follow. This is not a decision based on logic or reason; although it is not an irrational action nor contrary to reason. It is not even a decision based on feelings or emotion; although I have put my heart into it. It is an act of the will to follow a voice and a Presence that has seen me through all the tough times and the good times of my life. If this Presence turns out to be a phantom, then I have to be pitied of all men. But if this Presence is the same power that created everything that is, then I will in the end be justified.

It is this same Power and Presence that compels me to proclaim what I heard and learned from him. Much of this is through the words and deeds he has left us from when he walked this earth. But much more about him, I have learned from the oral tradition and the collective consciousness of all those who have heeded his call and have decided to follow him. I must proclaim his words and deeds.

Why waste your breath moaning at the crowd?
Nothing can be done to stop the shouting.
If every tongue were stilled
The noise would still continue.
The rocks and stone themselves would start to sing:

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