Two young fish are swimming along in warm sun-bathed water when an older, distinguished fish swims by and says, “Hi, boys – how’s the water?”  The lads continue past the elder and then one young fish turns to his friend and says, “What the heck is water?”  Panic flashes and sustained anxiety is born.

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It is said that in Jesus, God entered human history.  Yes, that is right.  But is there more we can say?  Again, yes.

When God enters human history in the person of Jesus, He enters as a child.  We, too, enter in the same manner.  In this – in our entry as a child just as Jesus did – are we not in our birth, and each birth – yea, every birth – engaging in, replicating in form the Incarnation, honoring it – recollecting it – each birth once again, over and over, over and over …

Rather puts abortion to the test I’d say.  And child neglect and abuse as well?  Not caring for and valuing children, worse yet abusing them, dismissing them, starving them of love?  Such conduct and overt rejection of God and a denial of love.  Its opposite indeed: the product of a hardened heart.

I suppose the question comes down to this: What story did you enter at birth? What is your narrative?  The story of Christ? Or the story of self?

Of self?  Yes.

The story of self is written on but one single sheet of paper, a conventional size – 8 1/2″ x 11.”

Those who write their own story simply scribble over and over “self.” “Self” daily, weekly, monthly, year after year, decade upon decade; “self” written over “self,”  “self” colliding with “self.”  Carried away they write on themselves, a body not a temple – but a scrap of paper … “Self” written so many times as if to say: I do not know who I am.  Scribbling “self” says desperation and “Know me, know me – see me, see who I am.  See me so I might know I am.”  But “I am who am”is never who you are.  Rather you are His beloved.  Is that not clear?  Is that not enough?

Ironically, many narratives have the person seeking to kill, or master, the leviathan. In the story of “self” perhaps we do attempt just that – where the leviathan is “self.”

The Christian narrative is so much more.  In it we live – and live eternally – no need to slay the demon.  No need for proclamation or doubt as to who we are. The only task: to believe and to love.

In our birth we enter the divine narrative – the story without end, where all who enter have meaning, purpose and identity.  Fish in water.  No panic.  No anxiety.

Shalom.

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