Jesus, Jesus, Jesus...

So I'm back in NYC. Tore a nail and have a band-aid on, which inhibits my ability to type. But anyway, I'm back at work and I'm AMAZED at what I see around me. I can't diss work online, even if I'm the boss, so I need to let it go. But I. Am. Soooo. Tired.

And I'm grading papers. Can't really speak freely on that, either.

What I can speak about is the persistent, enduring diarrhea I've experienced since the trip. It started in Jerusalem, where I just felt cold and achey. The trots started later. While I didn't lose any weight hiking Mt. Sinai or walking around Jerusalem, in the first four days at home I lost something like 8 pounds. That would not have been significant in my old body, but now represents a significant percentage of my body weight. But it's all good. (Question: Why does every one of my 44 employees think that my job is to respond to their immediate needs? Am I the Executive Director or am I the Den Mother?)

I'm only back a couple of days and feel as beat down as if I'd never left. There is a constant press of responsibilities, which is fine; the issue is that everyone thinks their immediate issue is somehow loftier or weightier than any other issue. It's like ours is a culture of immediate gratification, and no one can see the need for nor the benefit of slow, steady, SUSTAINED progress. Oh, well. Whatcha gonna do? Since my life is about the above, it's not like I can make any sudden moves (although God knows I want to. Sometimes I just want to bolt.).

Despite the possibility of having irreparably damaged a relationship with someone about whom I care deeply, I still assert that, for the most part, I've learned the difference between actions dictated by my emotions and those dictated by the facts of the present circumstances. Unfortunately, in this very politicized, totally undiscerning culture in which we live, many people are spin masters to the point their actual perceptions change to fit their concept of reality. (I think we go here to Plato's Forms theory, or, more appropriately, his story of The Cave.) Yes, that's it. We're all living in Plato's (or Socrates') Cave.


Well, prayerfully, not all of us. But there are enough people living in the cave, mistaking shadows for reality, that it makes it really frustrating to attempt to live in any reality different from the shadow one.

Which is why I just call on the name of Jesus. Sometimes, there's no other help you know. Sometimes, it doesn't do any good to weep, wail and moan. Sometimes, you just need Jesus. This is one of those times.

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.

The song by Fred Hammond that's playing says, "and so I cried, Jesus, I need You. Please don't pass me by. I cried out Jesus, I'm not ashamed. I need You in my life." I know I'm broken, but You can heal me, Jesus, Jesus. I'm calling You, I might not be worth much, but I'm still willing, Jesus, Jesus. ...

I know I'm broken, but You can heal me, Jesus, Jesus. I'm calling You, I might not be worth much, but I'm still willing, Jesus, Jesus ...

I'm calling You, Jesus, Jesus. I'm calling You, Jesus, Jesus....