I love Matt Walsh...

even if he doesn't love me.

Matt Walsh is a popular conservative writer whose Christianity is as black and white as mine used to be. Black and white is such an easy place to be until it isn't. When none of the promises of the Bible-pocket-promise-book (yes that's a real book I gave to a mentally ill friend of mine decades ago) mean anything any longer. In those times of trauma, when the faith we received from our fundamentalist, book focused churches leaves us staring at a silent, dead Christ, something will give.

Sometimes, it was my integrity that gave. I was encouraged to repent of my inquisitive mind. I consulted encyclopedias (not a brief book for my pocket) of bible difficulties, because there are so many issues with the book. Despite the very warning from St. Paul, the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life, I went back to the book. It was the only thing tangible. The book is a blunt instrument, causing tremendous damage. But it gets results. It provides judgment instead of mercy when it's the focus instead of it's focus, the God of love.

In Matt Walsh's writing, the "left" are an enemy. I used to write this way as well. I love Matt Walsh because I empathize with his journey. Mercy will transform him as it does me.

Love will win.

You Were Brave in that Holy Warby the Persian poet Hafiz
You have done well
In the contest of madness.
You were brave in that holy war.
You have all the honorable wounds
Of one who has tried to find love
Where the Beautiful Bird
Does not drink.
May I speak to you
Like we are close
And locked away together?
Once I found a stray kitten
And I used to soak my fingers
In warm milk;
It came to think I was five mothers
On one hand.
Wayfarer,
Why not rest your tired body?
Lean back and close your eyes.
Come morning
I will kneel by your side and feed you.
I will so gently
Spread open your mouth
And let you taste something of my
Sacred mind and life.
Surely
There is something wrong
With your ideas of
God
O, surely there is something wrong
With your ideas of
God
If you think
Our Beloved would not be so
Tender.

---"The Gift: Poems by Hafiz the great Sufi Master" translated by
Daniel Ladinsky



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