OCTOBER 29, 2003

Something Linda Bunting said to me a while back – I know she got it from somewhere else, but I don’t remember where. Someone had said that the first time his son had his toy truck broken, or something run over in the street, was the first time he became acquainted with the Man of Sorrows.

I just sent out, moments ago, a writing about how God is All in all.

And I was tinged with sadness when I did it; because I couldn’t think of how to incorporate this message into that first article.

Paul said that the sign of Christ in us, rather than the rote keeping of the Law, was that we would have hearts of flesh rather than hearts of stone.

This truly is it. A heart of flesh means that every hope we’ve ever had has been dashed to pieces. It means that we are the intimate friend of despair and have wallowed in hopelessness. It means that we have been wrenched and torn, that our rough edges have been worn down, our knees have been kicked out from under us, and that all creation itself has laughed at us and called us names and seemingly conspired against us. It means we have realized how terribly, terribly alone we are.

And to have a heart of flesh means to have found light in the furthest parts of darkness – unexpected to our minds – undeserved but certain, solid, perceptible in the substance of faith. And in its rising, its heat melts the very stone of our hearts and changes it to a soft, innocent, supple, guile-free heart of oozing, loving flesh.

So when we speak these “truths,” these “dogmas,” we speak it in mind of the Living Heart of God which beats within us – that knows us as Friends and Persons, who has known in our depths of depths both joy and sorrow, and we as living expressions of the ever-living, ever-dying heart which never stops.


HEARTS OF FLESH [Fred Pruitt] 10-29-03          1


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