History and the Pilate Routine

History.

Read it as a child.

Enjoyed it in high school

Majored in it for college.

Focused on it in seminary.

Been reading it all my life.

A joy to keep probing the dots.

And follow the lines that connect them.

But a burden, too.

I look at others, and note the absence of history.

The absence of the times.

The absence of the present mess, crisis, and whatever.

For them, sweet Elysian fields.

Platitudes and campfires.

Bible verses and cute stories.

The intricacies of dogma - what fun.

S'mores and laughter.

Fun and games.

Middle Class comfort and easy going.

Christian solace and the sweet by-and-by.

Praise God for our ease.

As for:

The Pandemic?

BLM?

Protests?

Environmental disasters?

Income inequality?

And a thousand other realities, truths, hardships, and pains.

The Pilate routine works just fine:

Wash hands.

Shake head.

Walk away.

Clean hands feel good.

Shaking the head seems so astute.

Walking away - comfy.

Damn.

The history muses won't let me alone.

I keep seeing the dots.

And all the lines.

And all the pain and sorrow.

I had a history teacher in high school.

He once scrawled on the black board.

With great drama.

Drama I've never gotten:

HISTORY = HIS STORY.

Well, maybe not HIS.

But certainly God's story.

A story unfolding.

In every season under heaven.

And to think about God, at least for me.

Is to be a student of God's Story.

A student of history.

I cannot do the Pilate thing.

Though what I do is never enough.

But a little work is better than nothing.

And I will do my little work.

For as long as I can.

And in some small way,

I hope that I am following the call of Christ.

The words of the prophets.

And the lives and hope of everyone.

Devoted to seeing the dots.

And connecting them.

For the sake of truth.

For the sake of faith, hope, and love.

For the sake of grace, mercy, and peace.

Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Mother, Daughter, and Holy Love.

All that's right and good.

Strong and lovely.

Bright and beautiful.

Great and small.

For the story.

That:

We Shall Overcome!

--------------------------

*Dedicated to Heather Cox Richardson ... and those historians of past and present who will not rest on their laurels, but press on to know the truth, who stir the pot and keep us disturbed.