Age and aeon are two words that express time, albeit with regard to different scopes. While an age can represent both individual and corporate seasons, the aeon solely represents the larger entity relative to its impact; from many years beset by darkness or enlightenment to 10 seconds in the face of danger or stark truth that completely shift one's paradigm.
A couple of weeks ago, I watched the 2010 film Easy A with family and we really enjoyed the comedic yet intelligent touch with which topics like angst, self-discovery, peer pressure, lies, sacrifice and redemption were handled. There was no infant evidence or actual adultery to warrant the protagonist's likeness to Hester Prynne, but a misspoken word branded the honor student's chest with a salacious "A" all the same. Popular boys and girls as well as ostracized social groups shunned the girl, perhaps for fear that the alleged nastiness she was made of might rub off on them. Even a scandalous guidance counselor and the Christian student group, the leader of which was so harsh and judgmental in her 'witness' that the main character had to ask "was [she] just saved", took joy in finding what appeared to be a more sinful-than-thou scapegoat to pin their tales on. While I don't condone the character's radical embrace of the rumor as the best way to lead others to the truth, I understand from two who did it first how effective it can be at times to leave people to their own assumptions and devices. After all, de-vicing what the enemy devises is the power of the Lord!
In the first chapter of the Song of Solomon, we find a young woman naturally black in skin tone or darkened by rays of ill treatment and forced by her brothers to continue working under such conditions despite the needs of her own vineyard. In a modern context, that may express itself in someone remaining quiet amidst temporary face-saving deceptions, working overtime behind the scenes to foster business for any dominant energy while receiving little compensation in finances, support or respect and so on. Such unfulfilled compromise could make for an unstable st/age that extends far beyond the awkwardness that almost all teenagers gain expertise in by default. I am grateful to have been delivered to a place where I am unafraid to seek and stand for the truth yet unscathed enough to tend to the apparent and not-so-evident wounds of others on the journey too, if allowed.
Early this morning, I was awakened from an odd dream by a very important young man. He had been up late practicing lines he'd have to recite in class as Puck from A Midsummer Night's Dream and would need a ride since he missed the bus. As his call forced me into wakefulness, I surprised myself with laughter at the fading, nonsensical images of three random agitators being hit on their chins with a cast-iron pot! Their presences, those of loved ones in some unknown place with good people and bad times as well as a friendly little girl skateboarding in the direction I was leaving on a block I found myself on were silenced as I emerged from slumber. I have no idea what it means although it beat the free-falling airplane turned supermarket parking lot cruiser from the night before. I do know that the free and unfailing Love that God gives means so much more.
In the first chapter of the Song of Solomon, we find a young woman naturally black in skin tone or darkened by rays of ill treatment and forced by her brothers to continue working under such conditions despite the needs of her own vineyard. In a modern context, that may express itself in someone remaining quiet amidst temporary face-saving deceptions, working overtime behind the scenes to foster business for any dominant energy while receiving little compensation in finances, support or respect and so on. Such unfulfilled compromise could make for an unstable st/age that extends far beyond the awkwardness that almost all teenagers gain expertise in by default. I am grateful to have been delivered to a place where I am unafraid to seek and stand for the truth yet unscathed enough to tend to the apparent and not-so-evident wounds of others on the journey too, if allowed.
Early this morning, I was awakened from an odd dream by a very important young man. He had been up late practicing lines he'd have to recite in class as Puck from A Midsummer Night's Dream and would need a ride since he missed the bus. As his call forced me into wakefulness, I surprised myself with laughter at the fading, nonsensical images of three random agitators being hit on their chins with a cast-iron pot! Their presences, those of loved ones in some unknown place with good people and bad times as well as a friendly little girl skateboarding in the direction I was leaving on a block I found myself on were silenced as I emerged from slumber. I have no idea what it means although it beat the free-falling airplane turned supermarket parking lot cruiser from the night before. I do know that the free and unfailing Love that God gives means so much more.
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