Mike's musings

Ipswich

Christ is the prostitute, the working girl, the hooker, the drug addict.

Christ is the john, the trick, the punter.

Christ is the policeman, the detective, the filth.

Christ is the journalist, the cameraman, the presenter.

Christ is the viewer, the reader, the listener.

Christ is the father, the mother, the sister, the brother.

God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, dies every time we sin. Every time we fail to live up to the promise that is in us, every time we reject Him/Her, every time we look the other way, every time we watch without seeing, every time we read without understanding, every time we hear without listening. God is always already there, in the sin, in the pain, in the dying.

But Jesus rises in every kind word, in every attempt to help, in every moment of empathy, in every tear, in every penny freely given, in every smile loosed.

Labels: Christ, death, Ipswich, murder, prostitute, rape, resurrection

Side-stepping

I side-stepped someone today. I IMed a friend (let's call her Sally, as that's her name, after all), and asked her how she was doing. She asked if I really wanted to know, and I clearly didn't, so I side-stepped the issue. I know that life's not easy for her at the moment, and I know that she won't feel that I should have taken up her particular cross, but it was my decision, and I decided to take the easy way out, and I feel a guilty about it.

And I'm not going to accept an easy way out, so there! :-P

I'm away from home, and missing Jo and Moo, and have had some fairly difficult conversations with both of them on the phone over the last couple of days. But despite that, I feel very receptive to God's grace, and I don't know how that works, and it's difficult, and I wish S/He'd stop it. Because I don't know how to deal with it.

Murder

One of Moo's colleagues works in Ipswich. She was due to go to a Christmas party this week, but her two teenage daughters asked (begged?) her not to, so, despite just a hundred yards' walk or so from her car to the party, she agreed not to go. She felt that her children had rarely asked anything major of her, but this time they had, and they had every right to do so, so she acceded. Things are bad in Ipswich at the moment. Sex workers, prostitutes, drug addicts, whores, daughters - whatever you call them - are being robbed of the God-given gift of life. They are being killed - murdered - and they are being deprived of the right - the privilege - to live. Who cares if they "sell themselves", who cares if they are "prostituting their bodies"? Well, God does, actually. But Jesus wouldn't condemn them, and neither have we any right to do so. And anyone who takes their lives away is playing the part of a God I don't recognise, because my God is a God of mercy, and love, for the marginalised, the sinners, and God knows, for me.

It's time for this again.

May God have mercy on his soul.

May God have mercy on the soul of each of us.

May God grant rest to those who have suffered.

May God grant forgiveness to those who cause suffering.

May God have mercy on his soul.

Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis,

Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis,

Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, dona nobis pacem.

(Lamb of God, who carries the sins of the world, have mercy on us,

Lamb of God, who carries the sins of the world, have mercy on us,

Lamb of God, who carries the sins of the world, give to us peace.)

Why are men so brutal? What have we done to deserve such a capability? May God have mercy on our souls.

Labels: Ipswich, mercy, murder, prostitute