Lord

I am about to make a leap of faith.  Into logical disjunction.  There is this image.  It is what we are wanting to say to you now, regardless of the narrative flow that I would insist upon.  There is a crown of thorns and blue roses.  

Whenever I contemplate your Lord, the only thing in my heart and mind is an overwhelming desire to take him from the cross, and thus to end his suffering.  The twelfth station is for me the most powerful.  Here his suffering has ended.  And what I see is a man.  The actuality of an incarnate god does not move me.  It does not touch me.  

But in the death of that man, in more ways than I could ever enumerate, I see revealed that mystery which is a human life.  That he was alive, and that he dreamed and suffered and rejoiced as all of us do—that is for me a far greater wonder than anything else about him.  What he taught, what he did…such things cannot, for me, embody the truth and the overwhelming power and significance of his having lived at all.  And in his death I see a perfect symbol of the impenetrable nature and mystery of being itself.  I find that station of the cross profoundly comforting.  In its contemplation I take solace in the fleeting immutability and finality of existence.