The hermitage, the fast and the long run are mine today. I have a sense of humility about it because nothing seems to have been accomplished. I existed in worldly uselessness; yet conscious of continuous divine communication. I prayed, but the divine communication was unperceived, seen only by faith and heart.
Running, fasting and solitude are my cross; unexplainable to the uninitiated. These are gifts I carry; vertical aspiration and horizontal expansion. Carrying the cross, I am the tool of Spirit. I seek not crucifixion, nor sacrifice, nor suffering. I carry a cross of joy in Spirit, peace in all directions and love at its heart.
Running, fasting and solitude have emptied me today. If not for the four days of juice, the 17 miles in a hilly frigid park and abstinence from the world; I might be fat, dumb and complacent. Fasting prepared the raw materials. Running threw me over a cliff, where the gentle embrace of solitude became my cushioned fall and endless immersion in light.
The fasting was the furnace. The running was the pounding and shaping by the divine hammer. The solitude was the quenching. I have become a tempered soul under the hand of Divine Love. I was refined from a pile of dirt to fine gold. I was transformed from an iron bar to a tempered steel sword. I was etched with beautiful designs and mysterious symbols. I am lovingly oiled and polished and placed in a sheath worn at My Lord’s waist.
There lies my humility, again I notice. I am carried at the side of Love, never withdrawn for violence, beauty forever hidden. I am an accessory, an accoutrement. His Presence requires my service, but my purpose is hidden away from what I appear to be. My silent unused position is a kind of prostration which I gladly offer.
What a strange reflection today. It is nonsensical, meaningless puffs of fantasy, musings of a spiritual drunk, the ravings of a mystical fool.
Christ the life of my soul.
My life hidden in Christ.
Christ lives, not I.