Monday Rewrite There was another world, there had always been another world, another dimension; and he took them by the hand and led them into it, through the diminishing walls of this life, through the small wardrobes they had built, into a vast endless place; and he did it with his radical living and startling stories: his tales of the unexpected; he introduced them to rebels who searched high and low for adventure and freedom and found what they were looking for in the very place that they had started from; irresponsible farmers who sowed their crops here, there and everywhere; youngsters who said all the wrong things and yet did the right things; a boss who paid a whole day’s wage for one hour’s work. He showed them a place where the poor could be rich, where the weak find strength, the overlooked are championed, and the humble carried high on the shoulders of hope; and though he took them to another world, it seemed to be a place where the roads all led back to this one, and those who thought they already had 20/20 vision had their eyes opened, and the folks with all the answers found better questions to ask… and in this alternate reality, he led them to the most startling place of all: a dark hill, where time would not only stand still, but begin again, a realm jam-packed with crosses and fresh beginnings; and in this abandoned place he offered a new kind of embrace, one steeped in his blood and etched with nails, one that looked for all the world like the end of everything, yet was a merely a deeply painful comma, before the world shuddered and shook, and the sun rose on the kind of dawn the world had never seen before, as the two dimensions overlapped and embraced forever; a new wardrobe into this other world; and as women and men ran to and fro, scratching their heads and haggling with one another, he waited in the shadows, looking for all the world like just another human, his battered hands streaked with gardening mud; and one by one, down the ages and the centuries, folks have found themselves in this garden, stumbling across him, discovering for themselves the meaning of that place of crosses, nails and new beginnings; an eternal tale, winding its way into the future, with no full stops, no end, perpetual hope, in a world of slamming doors and dead ends, a dawn rising, a bright son that no darkness can ever extinguish…
Matthew 13 v 34-35, John 16 v 25-28
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