Open letter to Ogonna, beloved friend and brother

Sometimes I feel as we're standing on the opposite sides of a great mountain. I'm still straggling in the foothills while you're making steady progress towards the summit, not yet there, but with eyes firmly set above. You're shouting encouragements to me, "But look, ain't it wonderful as the sun sets on this world! everything's dissolving up here, like there's no matter anymore, just light and air". It sure is, even I can see it now, there's something beautiful up there, waiting, calling for me, almost there any day now...

But there's the other words also, "Look out so you don't stumble! those rocks are sure slippery! that stream might pull you under, lest you're careful". And then I wonder if you know the pitfalls on this face of the mountain, 'cause it IS a difficult path, but seemingly with other dangers, the diversions doesn't quite smell the same, the bruises and aches in this body hit me elsewhere. Like even the flowers on your side have another brilliance, clear colours fit for the day, and time, and place. Like the sun hits the rock at a different angle, producing stark shadows, darkness, light, that in no way mix or intermingle. It must seem greyish-brown from above, this land I walk; were ever you here, leaving stone stacked upon stone to guide me, in the true manner of pilgrims? And what for me to give now, when even humility plays tricks on me, being the only pride left to the weak?

And I wonder if you're not too strong, if you're not pulling single, a harness meant for two. Your words about the children and the chocolate and candy received for free, was there not some trace of contempt in them? As if they had not deserved the gift given unto them? As if it was possible to deserve anything of true value? It's hard for me to see the stumbling blocks on your side, sometimes you're almost lost in the mid-day haze, far up sillhouetted against the sun, and besides there is that mountain of deep rock from the beginnings of earth between us. What can I say but what you told me, that sometimes you need to, you should, lay down your head to rest on a steady heartbeat, that beats for you, listening, and be sufficient in that.

So we are not yet the same, but we will stand in a great crowd one day, surely meeting casually in the happy streets while singing the same song to Him we both love. The old words on God and salvation, sin and grace. Renewed in Christ. In Whom the river within us, draws its water to the three-armed delta by the sea.