Field Notes on the Living God

Jesus Grew Up + From Everlasting

from wilderness unto Gethsemane

from His 1^st Flood unto the victory on

the Cross which glorified, fully fulfilled

Isaiah 9, verse 6, His wandering

in Sinai fiery furnace fiery trial

unto the tears of blood among the blooms

among which He proceeded towards night's cross,

His victory overcoming cornerstone,

the cornerstone of best fit of all lines.

The God Man, Divine Human Jesus Christ,

addresses us in verses of best fit,

aims for the most regenerations,

(a maximum utilitarian approach

exactly in accordance with the love

of liberty) and blooms within us at

exactly when we can be kept in love,

a love that gradually gets purified.

A pure relational event transpires,

and following this brush with joyous dawn

you no more need the proof of which they speak

than need to prove your partner has a mind.

Regeneration sucks the poison from

our wounds, our wound up fantasising lusts

for anything, not just arousal in

the narrow sense, but anything at all.

It's Jesus who instructs how to love,

who flows into our stockpiled divine truths

as wine into a vessel, brightly shines

from Mt Paran, blooms-rises in the heart

the hunted hare has, gentleness upon

it, has it, cups it carefully, so much

more carefully than we cup ants (but great

by far than we above the ants, His love

sustaining us from plunging into Hell!).

Beyond our thoughts in secret passageways

outside of training forms like time and space,

belief becomes instruction in the art

of love instead of bitterness, first stir

of mutual love, the pearl of great price known

as charity, the charity on which

the law and prophets hang, the cuckoo clock

of prophecy, the passion play of fall

in charity in course of quarters, love

consociating us where we most belong.

He knows that many simply will not believe

so gives us many leaves for healing lands,

domesticates hereditary sin,

the tendencies thereto which we all have.

He does not need one's testimony but

our everlasting Father Jesus Christ,

that inexpressible and holy joy

who calibrated what is holiness

was clearly intertwined with all

conception and all creativity –

“without whom there is nothing done that's done” --

and outside ordinary time and space.

Joy taught one thereby how to overcome

past bitterness, establishing excuse

upon excuse for other people, how

to notice one's wound up severity.

This is not dogma! these are field notes here,

this happens as your partner happens, as

a migraine happens, as the radio

will bongo, as we drain a dram of dream.

These then are field notes on the living God

relational event dawn Jesus Christ

one can't express! such intricate and vast

expansive silent organ music! How

dawn helped one get up in the morning! How

His love instructed one in noticing

the other human beings, loving them

(1^st Thessalonians 4:9, I believe),

the mutual love of Jesus in our hearts

that swallows up the flood the dragon spews.

Our Father Jesus, Saviour of the World

He is the light and heat. We are the dust.

That image causing jealousy? Our lust.

He is the love and truth, the joyous sound

of bride and bridegroom wherewith we abound;

abound that is with mutuality

sincerity, with sown sodality,

oil/charity with everyone within.

Our Saviour from hereditary sin

is that same highway in the desert fools

can even travel as their lava cools.

He is the testing opportunity

to live forever and in unity.

He melts the biggest ice chips in our hearts.

Thereafter, even if by fits and starts,

the littler ice chips cannot bear His heat.

(His is the truth we drink, the good we eat);

these ice chips being lesser grudges, chips

on shoulders, feuds involving snarly quips,

and suchlike baggage in the cargo bay

which we resist such that it flees away,

attenuating to a shadow here

so that a true conjunction can cohere;

that is, conjunction with the God Man by

conjuncting good and truth with the Most High.

The Divine Human is Almighty Lord

and God and everlasting Father's Word;

and even people who don't know His name

can still conjunct, still play Love's hidden game.

For name is like to have a good name is;

so those who do His deeds are truly His;

not Nicolaitans, for a reward!

but even out of sight of one accord,

with all who live this way, conjuncting well

with Heaven as opposed to with some Hell.

Be not surprised that Jesus sometimes lets

the sand into your oyster shells and then,

(once we've become aware of law thus sin),

the rain temptation waterblasts your house

with vile insinuations like a mouse

or many mice perhaps, annoying as

a nagging voice some man or woman has.

It nags all night as accusation piles

on accusation, fantasising wiles

succeed each other, resist our control.

So far as we oppose them, so far whole,

so far abundant, liberated from

enslavement, beating to a different drum,

the mutual love of Heaven in our hearts.

This is the unity He makes of parts

and why we woke up in a ticking bomb

that starts out dancing, then falls in the tomb,

same belly Lazarus lay in 3 days.

This is life's meaning beyond all the haze

of battle, nags within and nags without,

the frenemies, the hypocrites, the shout

and bustle of metropoli, hired mobs'

two-way conduction and whatever robs

the people of their dearly purchased dough.

And those same people reap as they did sow.

We'd best sow good thoughts and good deeds or else!

The reprobate in fiery shadows dwells.

They share our heads to fructify our souls.

They hate us, even what we love, our goals.

Such is the flame of testing in our hearts,

becoming Moses: humble, skilled in arts

of the Egyptians, sure the Lord is light

that lights our bulbs, a truth that dispels pride,

and that gives envy no place to abide.