There. I’ve started it. I’m just going to write it down in hopes that maybe I’ll have the nerve to send it out. Maybe shout it out. But I doubt it. (And I’m not even high on anything.)
It’s just after 9:00 on Sunday. Judy got up early to do a driving job and I’ve slept in. Not really, though, for I’ve been mulling over what’s happened and, obviously, have decided to just get up and do this before I ‘chicken out’.
Since my earliest awareness, God has been with me. I’ve always known a ‘More’, a presence of Love that was there to challenge, comfort and Be. Over the years I have had several very personal experiences that have made this a knowledge. Something I Know. It is not a matter of belief. A constant question for me has always been what I was to do with this part of me . For it IS part of me.
How I wish this understanding/condition had only been for a short time, or for a certain occasion as it was for many Jewish prophets in the Old Testament. Not me. I’ve been a very reluctant prophet. Yes, I use that word with purpose. Unlike our common usage today, a prophet is not someone who is mainly concerned with predicting the future, but one who declares the Word of God. The message is simple: The Creating God of Love calls us to live in fairness, equity and love. We are not doing that. Things can simply not continue as they are without great consequences. Change or face that unloving future.
I’ve been trying to do this all my life. What is different about now? I’m declaring myself not just a preacher, but a prophet. There’s a difference. Being raised in church, I eventually became a minister, thinking, as we’ve all been taught, that The Church is the people of God. Therefore, the voice of God could only be heard, within churches. Wrong, of course.
Any cursory overview of the prophetic writings show us that, by definition, prophets, one’s who proclaim God’s Word, do not come from within the organized religion. Perhaps the greatest weakness in the Protestant Church tradition is that clergy are ordained into the Ministry of the Word and Sacraments, that is, they are expected to be both Priest and Prophet. Impossible. These two are often diametrically opposed. The role of the priest is to make us feel good. The word of the prophet is usually one of disruption, a call to new life, an unwanted challenge. To expect a minister to purposefully upset those who are paying the bills, is too much. It rarely happens. Rule number one for any minister/clergy/priest is to have the people come back again the next Sunday. A guest speaker might have a chance to be faithful to the prophetic, but not the full-time pastor. So, it doesn’t happen. Things don’t change. God’s Word isn’t heard. There’s no new life. Like most churches now.
I won’t spend time here reviewing my confusing and cowardly journey of trying to rationalize, ignore and normalize my Call. What has prompted this confession is that last Wednesday, I had an experience that I simply must take seriously. At my age, maybe it will be the last ‘biggie’. While on a mild high (one little square of ‘enhanced’ chocolate), for most of the evening I was wonderfully stress-free, knowing and accepting my Call as a prophet of God. I experienced a combination of peace and challenge, of being one with the world and all people. I was aware of the consequences: opposition, support, danger, knowing that being true to this path of life was what mattered most, that it alone verified and made sense out of all that has happened to me until now. The only future of importance was one of being true and open in my calling. The freedom and love that accompanied this awareness is indescribable.
One fact hit me like a baseball bat. The book I had just finished, Bigger, was really me deciding to do this. It expressed my hopes and possibilities. It wasn’t fiction at all, just hopes and possibilities. (More on this later?)
I also knew that, probably, when I ‘came to my senses’, I’d go back to my usual blogging and talking to whoever was available, in the old way. To declare myself as a prophet would only muddy the waters and bring me derision and ensure that I was even more of an outcast. Prophecy has been banned by Christianity for over 1800 years. It’s proof of insanity.
For four days I’ve wrestled with this. I need help. It’s tearing me apart. Life is no fun if you aren’t able to share your true self. I now have an inkling to what gays or transgender people feel. Coming-out-of-the-closet is traumatic and most difficult. I’m used the struggle. Why not just continue? ‘Coming out’ would mean that I couldn’t hide or take it easy. I’d be on display. I’d have to get my act together and use the internet. The prophets of old spoke at the city gates. The internet is our accepted ‘gate’. Damn! I’m so un-techie.
But, really, what do I have to lose? I’m weird anyway. And 82! Older than Biden. I might as well come clean with what’s made me this way. There’s really no down-side to coming out. I’ll be able to be more open. Maybe I’ll be able to reach more people. Most will ‘write-me-off’, but that usually happens anyway. Perhaps there will be a few who will, upon hearing, will be encouraged or helped to become Salt or Yeast, to help preserve and enliven our world. What else can I do? Here goes.
(Warning: the first thing any prophet does is look for followers. We simply cannot do this alone. There’s too much opposition. So, friends, beware. If you take me seriously, and support me, I need you to tell me. For me, this it truly a matter of life.)
Anthony
(I’ll show this to a few people, I think, before putting it out.)
