Back to our Ruts

It's been quite a while...sometimes, it's easier just to forget the past and move on. Sometimes, that's just what we need, to get moving again instead of bearing this immense weight of past and history waiting to be written before the present can ever ever be touched.

So here I am.

Sitting amongst the light of a candle powered by the timeless wonder of bacon grease. 

Bacon Candle

Lights out, orange globs dancing about my ceiling... this connects. This grounds the mind in something that stretches further back than recorded history. Of fishing and gathering, of laughter and love, of the labor of your hands belonging to the tribe and nobody else. There's something almost spiritually grounding in firelight, also. Perhaps this is why we haven't replaced the candles in candle-light ceremonies with LEDs yet. Fire is rich in symbolic value also, in purification and judgement and survival.

I thought about all this today as I sat in church, musing about one thing or the other instead of the sermon. That's my problem, my mind seems to understand church services as free license to think about just about everything accept the message, maybe there's some sort of subtle rebellion taking place there, rejecting simple absorption of information.

Have we lost anything in Protestantism? Has there been something profoundly lost in the rejection of tradition? Traditions arise for many reasons, and certainly can cloud true reasoning, but we've become so intellectual, so heaven-bent on understanding that sometimes I feel Christian ceremony has become less capable of connecting with that deep core that simply desires to dance recklessly around a fire and scream to the heavens praise and grief and joy