Posted By Horizon Staff November 29th, 2012 in Blogs : 0 COMMENTS

If the Truth is really true, then we walk among immortals every day of our lives.


The line in the DC waiting for some approximation of meat is a line of eternal souls. Eternal quirky souls with complicated stories. The woman who avoids making eye contact on the bridge is wearing a certain kind of perfume because her aunt gave it to her the day she moved to Canada. She will continue to wear it until ten years from now her husband buys the wrong one by mistake and she decides she likes it better. The man in the back of the philosophy class is thinking about the drums in his room at home under the Ansel Adams black and white photo of Yosemite falls. He is also pondering whether or not he should study physics, because when he was little he won a Lego contest for the best spaceship model and he always loved to tinker and figure out how things fit together. The professor at the front of the classroom overuses the word “facetious” because her high school fifth period English teacher used it every day. When her daughter is born in five months she is going to name her Faith because she has been trying to get pregnant for so long that sometimes her heart actually feels like a weight against her lungs. I am grinning because I just ordered hot pink spray paint from Amazon, and because I ate a fresh stolen blood orange with my breakfast, which was the first one I’ve ever eaten. Where I’m from fruit only comes in packages in the store. Someday I will live on a farm and eat snap peas right off the vine.

There is always more to be known about each other. Sometimes people ask me if I know so and so. I know very few people.  I notice lots of little things about people, like how you always drink your chocolate milk with a straw and or purse your lips before you speak or wear some variation of lace and Toms every day. But what I know about most of the people around me is still only observations, mysterious culminations of decades of story crafting. I know large portions of the stories of my closest friends, but even among them there is still much to be told.

It’s awfully easy to simplify people into observations. But what is visible and audible is merely the abstract of the dissertation. It’s just the character sketch of an immortal being, sauntering about the earth for a few short years. If we fully accept the Christian paradigm, then every person on this campus bears the marks of the eternal Lover. Each is a mirror of His divine Glory. As such we are always far more than we know about each other.

May the DC line never bore you again.

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