Volunteer Reflections
The Journeyby Brent
As an ant, I traverse the ground looking to ease my hunger. Consumed by my appetite, I stumble across a big juicy breadcrumb three times my size. I take three bites, and I tire of it, though I am far from satiated. I see more crumbs across the way, far larger than would be useful, but I ambitiously trot on my six legs to lay claim to my treasure. I see more, I want more, I get more. I set my sights on the next tasty morsel and trot over, but this piece is lodged behind a
blade of grass. This is no ordinary grass blade, but rather the blade of knowledge. As I try to crawl up the blade, I immediately slide down the chute. When I try again, it seems like I reach a little higher, but a deeper and more complex crevice makes me miss my step and I find myself at the bottom once again. I am thankful for the blade because it made me realize what a silly ant I had been trotting from breadcrumb to breadcrumb. I am now much wiser because I had wrestled with the blade, the real meaning of an ant life. The blade consumed me. With each new obstacle I feel like I learn a little more, but ultimately slide back to the place where I had started. I came more and more obsessed with the blade and learning all its secret passages and crevices. I dreamed of the day when I would conquer it. But when I find one crevice, it leads to three more below it, and when I pursue one of these avenues even more veins flow from this one. I cannot break free, the blade is now at my throat holding me hostage. The vessel of meaning has made me a captive. I twist and turn and struggle and fight, desperately trying to outsmart and defeat my captor, but to no avail. Being of the limited intellect of an ant, I can only learn so much, and ultimately any convoluted answers that I come up with are the product of this ant mind, of what worth are they? But I still struggle to beat that blade.
Exhausted from the climbing I take a quick break and look around. I see a beautiful butterfly, a butterfly with wings of love. She whispers something simple, and not worth the time of this ant who has loftier heights to achieve. I continue my climb and slide down again feeling quite defeated, and the grip of the blade was tighter and I am more attached than ever to finding the next step. The butterfly came over and brushed me with her wing softly whispering "surrender." The wings of love gather me up and loft me to new heights, and I see that I am in a field of daisies, a glorious meadow that stretches for as far as the eye can see.
His love is flowing like a river, flowing out of you and me, flowing out into the desert, setting all the captives free. Alleluia.