The Reprise

i used to believe in cremation. my body, an empty shell, would burn, and my ashes would be scattered to the four winds. riddance to a rigid cage.

my father said my view would change. he said i would come to love my earthly body and grow attached to it over time.

i still despise my carnal prison. i still want to shed it.

but i love this concept of resurrection. that which dies . . . changes, lives again. new. different. better.

and someday, when my Christ returns, i want my cells and systems to regenerate. something out of nothing. miraculous creation of matter -- a process? maybe -- but miraculous: life from death -- flesh will grow over dead bone like ivy through an arbor. veins like vines. and blood will flow from nowhere to nevermind.

and then, strong, my fists, and fists of others will beat their way through pine and oak, clawing through six feet of moist topsoil, sprouting forth from the earth like spring flora, and my body will stand again. like oak from acorn. rebirth. phoenix out of ash. the dawn after dark.

i have just woken up. i dreamed what could have been and saw what really is. i have stood outside of time and seen each choice i have made and i saw

how we are destined to fail and succeed and fall and rise and die and live

from the largest to the smallest, it echoes this one great story, from the greatest to the least, we all suffer undeservedly and reap a humble reward

and emerge

Inexpressibly Victorious

just to understand Him better.

--Nathan MacFarland Rodgers