I want to share three things I’m savoring at the moment (besides the lovely piece of art above).  First, a wonderful parable by Philip Harrison, taken from The Fidelity of Betrayal: Towards a Church Beyond Belief by Peter Rollins.

The other day I had a dream.  I dreamed I arrived at the gates of heaven, heavy-shut, pure oak, beveled and crafted, glinting sharp in the sunlight.  St. Peter stood to greet me; the big man wore brown, smile set deep against his ruddy cheeks.

“You’re here,” he said.

“I am,” I said.

“Great to see you—been expecting you,” he smiled.  “Come on in.”

He pushed gently against the huge door; it swung silently, creakless.  I took a couple of steps forward until, at the threshold, one more step up and in, I realized I wasn’t alone.  My friends had joined me, but they hovered behind, silently, looking on.  None spoke.  I realized only I could speak.  I looked at them; some were Christians, some Hindus, some Buddhists, some Muslims, some Jews, some atheists.  Some God knows what.  I stopped, paused.  A hesitant St. Peter looked at me, patiently, expectantly.

“What about these guys?” I asked him.  “My friends.  Can they come?”

“Well, Phil,” he replied, soft in the still air, “You know the rules.  I’m sorry, but that’s the way things are.  Only the right ones.”

I looked at him.  He seemed genuinely pained by his answer.  I stood, considering.  What should I do?  I thought about my reference points, and thought about Jesus, the bastard, the outsider, the unacceptable, the drunkard, the fool, the heretic, the criminal, and I knew exactly where I belonged.

“I’ll just stay here then too,” I said, taking my one foot out of heaven.  And I’ll tell you, I’d swear I saw something like a grin break across St. Peter’s face, and a voice from inside whispered, “At last.”

The second is a song by Sinéad O’Connor, called “Something Beautiful.”  I’ve included the lyrics below the video.

I wanna make
Something beautiful
For you and from you
To show you
To show you
I adore you
Oh you

And your journey
Toward me
Which I see
And I see
All you push through
Mad for you
And because of you

I couldn’t thank you in ten thousand years
If I cried ten thousand rivers of tears
Ah but you know the soul and you know what makes it gold
You who give life through blood

Oh I wanna make something
So lovely for you
‘Cuz I promised that’s what I’d do for you
With the Bible I stole
I know you forgave my soul
Because such was my need on a chronic Christmas Eve
And I think we’re agreed that it should have been free
And you sang to me

They dress the wounds of my poor people
As though they’re nothing
Saying “peace, peace”
When there’s no peace (2x)

Now can a bride forget her jewels?
Or a maid her ornaments?
Yet my people forgotten me
Days without number
Days without number
And in their want
Oh in there want
And in their want
Who’ll dress their wounds?
Who’ll dress their wounds?

And the third is a new friend, Tim King of the Post Christian blog, who gave me (unwittingly) the courage to “out” myself.  [See my post last Saturday, if you’re confused.]  Of course, he does a million and one things besides his amazing, thought-provoking blog.  To name two: Presence and The David Group International–with a third (very exciting) venture forthcoming.

These three things are singing in my heart right now, and I thought you might like them, too.  Happiest of days to you, dear reader.

[Post image: Liliana’s rubber cement and watercolor painting; she named it “The Spirits,” after the Aurora Borealis displays in the movie Brother Bear]