Thursday, November 25, 2004

How does the society which I am in view disabilities? Don't we all search for perfection, physical, emotional, intellectual and spiritual? If the goal is perfect, how can we understand the imperfect? Those who are not physically perfect because they cannot walk or cannot see. Those who are not emotionally perfect because they do not yet know how to love or how to forgive - themselves or otherselves. Those who are not intellectually perfect because they do not easily understand books and cannot remember facts to pass the tests. Those who are not spiritually perfect because they yet struggle to pray or to grow in virtue. How do we view them? Are they human? Are they lesser beings? Standing face to face, I stare into my own disabilities. I've tried to run from them, or to fold my arms in iron rebuke and show that I will not bow to them. They have not submitted and the imperfections of myself continue to exist and even to cause me to limp. I'm not perfect and am not sure how to fit into a world that wants me to be perfect, and a self that demands that I be perfect.

The King I adore and long for has never asked me to be anything apart from His own strength. He has told me that He'd be my strength and help. My response, in the depths of my being, has been that I acknowledge my need for such help but that I demand to continue on in my own strength. I must be strong. I must achieve. I must conquer. It has only left me broken, weak and on my knees in failure.

Failure. Is it always evil? Sometimes, I wonder, is failure a step along the path to ultimate fulfillment? Some days failure seems like the way to learn how to not fail. When I fail, it causes me to look to my King. Then I often fail again whenever I cease truly, from a pure heart, gazing into the eyes of my King and look at myself as royalty. I'm not a king, but a weak servant who has profound wounds and bleeding imperfections. My King is glorious.

What is it like to stare into the eyes of the King of all that exists? What does it even mean? There is a place, deep within the recesses of the soul, where this gazing can occur. It is two eyes, a pair of hearts, deep and the depths, locked in the intimacy of a frozen longing. My King desires me to be His servant, and I long to serve. In this little house of the soul, we gaze. Time stoops and halts in His presence. My very being is stilled by His majesty. Nothing else matters. Nothing else fulfills. Nothing else is as real as the meeting in this little home being graced by so high a King. Then He leaves, not because He does not love my little home or my little self, but because it is right and good. He leaves. I mourn. My little house seems so empty, so frail, so dark. He says that it is right that He should go, and I know it is right because He would never do wrong. Yet my being is tested by the confusion, the darkness, the lack of His presence that ensues. One day these meetings will never cease and will be one eternal moment in the presence of the eternal and glorious King of all ages, nations and places. Until then, we wander in this valley of tears.

Glory be to the Father, to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever, world without end. Amen.

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