I can’t retrace my steps, so I am not sure how I found “Where angels dance,” the rerun I pulled from the archives after a frustrating day struggling with technology that refused to work for me, starting with my third internet outage of the month. That was strike 3, by the way, and I have scheduled installation of a better service in a couple of weeks.
On a night when the rift among the U.S. government’s supposed leaders was on full display on national TV, and I found myself with very strong opinions, my technological frustrations led me instead to a day when I wrote:
“Given a finite time to have any impact on this universe, spend every minute in love, in spirit-lifting, on big ideas, on generosity, on making every moment count for something positive.”
My past self — and I must believe the hand of God — reminded me that focusing on the squabbles among those who purport to run our lives is not going to lift spirits or spread love.
I am a broken record* but nothing is amiss that could not be solved by following the two greatest commandments, to love God and one another.
I post a link to my daily scrawl on Facebook because it’s the modern equivalent of the town square or the general store where people once gathered to discuss the affairs of the day, but it hurts my soul to go there anymore because so many people are there to call each other names and blame the other side for the hate that has infected the political class for decades.
I would rather avoid Facebook altogether, especially because I can’t seem to stop myself exploring what the latest outrage is about. But I feel a need to drop in among the shouters and whisper, “I love you,” in their ear.
The fruit of the Spirit that I have the most trouble with is self-control. I want to post and get on with my day without seeing what horrible things people are saying to each other, but it seems I refuse to control that impulse.
Let me just remind myself, and anyone willing to read this, that we are all children of God unworthy of his love, but he loves us anyway, and we would do well to follow his example. I don’t understand or share your rage, but I love you as a fellow human.
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* If you are younger, let me know if I need to explain the “broken record” metaphor.
P.S. I am surprised to see I have not yet collected “Where angels dance” into one of my books, but if you would like to read more musings like it, may I suggest A Declaration of Peace or See the World! The links are to ebooks, but you can find the paper editions in the sidebar to your right or by scrolling down on your phone.
