{"id":417,"date":"2025-05-16T21:19:56","date_gmt":"2025-05-16T20:19:56","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/agoodknowing.com\/?p=417"},"modified":"2025-05-18T11:19:34","modified_gmt":"2025-05-18T10:19:34","slug":"jerusalem-judea-samaria-and-the-ends-of-the-earth-acts-18","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/agoodknowing.com\/index.php\/2025\/05\/16\/jerusalem-judea-samaria-and-the-ends-of-the-earth-acts-18\/","title":{"rendered":"Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria, and the ends of the earth\u2026..(Acts 1:8)"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Mary, D and me. A pea-green boat and an invitation.  <\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

A friend and I were chit-chatting together with the 3. A few days later, this friend sent me a message. She\u2019d been reflecting on our time, and the Spirit gave her a text to share with me. It\u2019s become my guide and invitation for the next however-long-They-decide. The text begins:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Owl and the pussycat went to sea on a beautiful pea-green boat\u2026..*<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The specifics and application of this are still unfolding between us, me and the 3. That\u2019s another story. But as I\u2019ve been considering and counting the cost (there\u2019s always a cos<\/em>t) of accepting their invitation (there\u2019s always choice<\/em>), I\u2019ve come to see how much I still cling to the familiar, to form. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

This thought took me to a story I love, about a lady I honour. You can find a telling of it in John\u2019s gospel, ch 20. Two days after the crucifixion, Mary is standing outside a cavern that held the body of the Jesus-man. A man she knew as well as you can ever know another. She\u2019s weeping because there are two Beings-of-Light sitting with space between them. The space that once held a body. And the body has gone. They are kind, and considerate of her weeping, but they provide her with no answer. No comfort. So she turns to leave. On her exit she bumps into a man. He asks the same question as they did: why are you crying?<\/em> With a second question following: who are you looking for?<\/em> She answered him, a Jesus-man that she didn\u2019t recognise. He identified himself by saying her name, just so, and she turned to him calling him the name she knew him by. They met in the naming and the knowing, but he then said:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Don\u2019t cling to me, for I haven\u2019t yet ascended to the father. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was a true and intimate naming and knowing, and also a form that she couldn\u2019t cling to. Ascension was coming. Where he was going she could and would go. But she couldn\u2019t cling to that man in that garden moment. I wonder what that felt like. The briefest of reunions and the joy of realising the story isn\u2019t over yet. Then a plunge into the wildest of unknowns. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mary left him, and the garden. She had a message to deliver. I linger in the garden a little. Not ready yet, not sure I\u2019ve seen what I need to see. Beings of Light sitting in a cavern. Jesus in a man-form that was unrecognisable to a dear friend. Mary able to move from loss, to finding, to letting go. No clinging.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I began to think about a lady I love, who\u2019s story I honour. In 2019, having crossed the three-score-and-ten line, she became increasingly aware of widening and empty caverns forming in the landscape of her remembered self. Details, names, dates and faces began to slide in there. In the shifting and sliding she grabbed onto stuffed friends as her anchors in time and place. A teddybear in a dress, a toy rabbit, two border-collie soft-toy puppies. The menagerie grew to fill the gaps. She held them, kissed them, and spoke with them in a language only they knew. Until the shifting settled and their services were no longer needed. Now there is a strangeness and a sweetness about her. Familiar and utterly unknown. I\u2019m not sure there\u2019s a right way to navigate this. But I keep hearing the same invitation \u201cdon\u2019t cling\u2026\u201d<\/em>. And the second part \u201cI am ascending to my father and your father, my God and your God.\u201d<\/em> And the promise \u201cif I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me\u201d<\/em> John 14:3.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019m not somewhere past three-score and ten. I\u2019m two score and ten. I\u2019m watching, as you do in this decade, as my form changes, and my function changes, and the world changes. Sometimes you\u2019ll find me weeping, sometimes full of joy at a rediscovery, sometimes resorting to kissing teddies. But as I\u2019ve followed Jesus-the-man-Christ he has taught me that ascension is a now <\/em>gift. It\u2019s not bequeathed on death, but it does require death, over and over: do not cling\u2026. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Following Him has lead me, today, to the edge of water. I\u2019m sitting on the shore a while. There\u2019s never a rush. I\u2019m remembering. And honouring.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jerusalem is a memory that I often engage with wistfully until I hear Mary say, and say again: do not cling.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Judea is the dusty and familiar decades of children and church that has been slipping and sliding for a while. Changing form in the moving. With D\u2019s voice from somewhere saying not to worry,<\/em> reminding me that all this was never the whole story anyway. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Samaria the Well-encountering, grace-filled meetings beyond the wild mountainous time in Judea. Familiar and strange. An expansion with limits and edges. The sorrow of exile from the religious centre, and the joy of watching the kiss of the Lover in the shady by-ways and corridors, unseen yet celebrated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The ends of the earth<\/em> my decision to make.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019m pretty sure that D is already in the pea-green boat. Waiting patiently for me with the new and remarkable smile she wears. Untethered. I know Mary is. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

There\u2019s no edge to the sea in sight. No shore I can fix my gaze on. But I can smell something on the kissing breeze that can only be the incense of the Bong-tree.*<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The sweet scent of union. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Father<\/strong>,<\/em>
You drew me into Jerusalem
Land of rebirth and reconnection
Of stories and songs,
Land of the Carpenter
I am in awe of the craft. The nails.
Fashioning of flesh
on wood.
Loss and explosive joy.
I thought I should like
To stay here forever.
I bent down and kissed the land.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jesus,<\/strong><\/em>
You drew me into Judea.
Land of mountains
Unsteady wandering.
Stumbling, unveiling.
Learning again to dance.
I saw my Raven-heart in your mirror.
The generous smile of Wisdom\u00a0
and her out-stretched hand.
I thought I should like<\/p>\n\n\n\n

To stay here forever
I bent down and kissed the land.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Spirit,<\/strong><\/em>
You drew me to into Samaria,
Wells of fiery love, and
twigs in my hair.
Caught up in a unfamiliar song
Spinning me around and around.
All sun-based direction dissolving.
I am left on the edge of water.
A pea-green boat awaits
The ends of the earth<\/em> beckon.
Do not cling<\/em>
I bend down and kiss the land.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

*The Owl and the Pussycat, by Edward Lear. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Mary, D and me. A pea-green boat and an invitation.   A friend and I were chit-chatting together with the 3. A few days later, this friend sent me a message. She\u2019d been reflecting on our time, and the Spirit gave her a text to share with me. It\u2019s become my guide and invitation for […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_crdt_document":"","_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-417","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorised"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/agoodknowing.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/417","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/agoodknowing.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/agoodknowing.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/agoodknowing.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/agoodknowing.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=417"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/agoodknowing.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/417\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":420,"href":"https:\/\/agoodknowing.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/417\/revisions\/420"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/agoodknowing.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=417"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/agoodknowing.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=417"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/agoodknowing.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=417"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}