Ephesians

I've always read Ephesians with a bias for looking at what it says about being a Christian - either the Christian's place in Christ, or the ethical implications of being one. That is a true reading, but, perhaps, inadequate. Another perspective of the book resonates with Milton's Paradise Lost in its depiction of the place of Christ at the center of all things. With that focus, Paul exults in the exaltation of Christ by God and the believers' peripheral (though significant) responsibility to join in His glorification.

It has been said many times, but only because it is many times forgotten, that the reason for ethical concern in the first place is to participate in Christ's glorification - not just to obey slavishly for the sake of obedience itself. A standard of obedience is too low a standard, though a good starting point. The objective to glorify Christ in all things cannot be achieved in our life on this earth - which is why, I think, we settle for obedience. If I fail at obedience, which has the tempting disadvantage of always seeming feasible, I mark myself a failure and condemn myself reflexively before God or others can. Therein I pay my price. But to glorify Christ in all things is already patently impossible. It does not carry the seduction of possibility. So my prospects in that game are always to fail, if only by degree. No one failure is worthy of condemnation - they all are. And in that, I can accept grace because I have to. I simply cannot beat the house.

The Closet

When you died
the box in the closet fell off the shelf.

And the contents I had neatly packed away
spilled out, facing me with histories and
pieces of myself long ignored,
though never forgotten, chief of which is how
much I am like you and how proud
of you I was, occasional differences
notwithstanding.

The box was so full, the contents pressed
against the door until it opened a wee
crack. I explained the house was settling,
but that wasn't true. The door
nudged wider open... I said there was
nothing there, only mice, which was a falsehood.
Finally the hinges tore off and all the
memories and mess were in the
middle of the floor.

Everyone gasped.
And left the room.

I was left to deal with the broken door
and the scattered pieces of events
that had been kept hidden from sight
by myself.

But the closet was finally clean.