ANATHEMA MARANATHA

The last opinions I offered, before I ceased offering opinions on such things, were these: That Christendom must change or die… That the guarded Old Institution resign in silence, to silently receive its institutionalized old guards… That above all, we rise above our myths, and let a New Church rise.
We must rediscover for the first time whether “God” is noun or verb. If we have Him, then where did He go? If we made Him, can we make Him go away? Is He almighty? Is He knowable? Is He eternal? Is He all we ever wanted? (If so, then yes, He is eternal—because mankind eternally wants more.) Does Man “need” to serve God, or does “God” serve some need in Man? Is our new vision of God more than an abstract word? Is He the One? Is He one? Is He? Is He That which can say He is? Is He what we think He should be? Did He once say “I AM?” And is He still? Is He still here? Where is that? Where can I find it, and where am I when that’s not where I’m at?
If God exists, let Him be. Let the Great I Am be that much more so. Let Him be the God who made Man, a God who is kind, a God who rules, a God who gives a damn—as opposed to simply damning Mankind for rules He made and gives.
We have sought to be good men before we even are good mammals. We create the crimes then jail men for them. Born to live in spirit by dead mental constructs, we destroy real flesh and blood for words and thoughts that can’t exist outside the mind. We kill men in the real world over concepts in our heads—boasting that we each live by our hearts…yet any heart not pumping blood is just a metaphor.
If we must live by metaphors, then our lives are merely allegories for someone else who lives. In turn, we must take our lives back from them—and stop turning our backs on life. We must redefine our faith in parables. We must cease to believe in mere beliefs.
We have built our faith by urban legends. Its foundation disappears with each vanishing hitch-hiker, each backward-masked LP, each angelic visitation, each Satanic Child Abuse ring. May we find redemption from our need to be redeemed, born again with every Rapture date that passes, each prayer warrior made schizophrenic, every man that abstinence made psychotic, each psychosis, that by mass acceptance, became “God’s special word” for us—End-Times that fail to end on time, like the Hell that daily fails to swallow you and I.
“I AM,” said the Lord. Perhaps the text was incomplete.
Perhaps it was meant to read, “I AM ALONE.”