The native spirit doesn’t ever really belong anywhere. The native spirit is on the go, looking for an intriguing conversation. Looking to spark up or rouse up comfortability.
Everyone has a cadence or an atmosphere to their lifework, calling them by existence. The stifling of belonging to equitable locations.
A typewriter is really the breathing room. The electronic and dull submissions on the translucent computer screens will disembody the naturalness of a greater cause.
When the native spirit involves in the church service, they are chastised. They are crucified. Their whole belief system in the quiet ambience of life’s patterned ebbs and flows becomes disrupted by the interpretation of that native spirit. That spirit that dwells stronger than anything the church has seen or felt. The church interprets it, but sometimes obliterates the true meaning. Doesn’t understand how it takes form or its purpose. And through their misunderstanding, they place their God on a pedestal when the native spirit is something more of a true humanitarian.
If we think of the words written in the bible as one man trying to convince a bunch of idiots that there is grace to be found in this unintelligible world, it will take years for the dumbfounded. They will look for miracles and answers. And though it’s okay to seek, the world is pretty righteous in its own plain measure. But the church will never know this life. Demanding the atonement of that pedestal. Not seeing humanity as simply a case of struggling individuals in need for interpretation, community, the need to be a part of something bigger or at least at one with ourselves. No! We must aim for this impossibility of man. Must aim for not being enough, falling short. Our life as a sacrifice. For what?
The native spirit sees all as part of the system. And the same characters who show up each day deliver their own sermon. They express their grace or their shortcomings. We establish our society on the humane and misguided look to the church as an impossible guide toward divinity. There is divine action happening in solitude, in the quiet. In the mundane and every day.
Church serves its purpose, but only to an extent. If you’re looking for righteousness, don’t go there. It’s a place for self-righteousness and judgement. To be yourself, to be broken and damaged is far more important than being healed. What is this healing that must take place? Authenticity and true struggle will lead the sermon every time. They will see you stand out like a sore thumb, and you, being a practical example of humanity, will know the truth in your faults. You will know that these other people who claim to be so blessed and righteous and deserving of God will not measure up to your own ideas of servitude.
Their revelations are your scars. Their interpretation is your message. You will become the mountain they have talked about. And your stance will lead them empty in a valley over and over again.
Church is the challenge of your righteousness. Church is the extension of the body to others who will parade around in your emotions while you stand unsatisfied as ever, yet satisfied before you showed up in the quiet turmoil of solitude and not counting on anyone but yourself. But soon the others will shake hands with the messenger.
Then again, humanity must be challenged. And your shortcomings will be their greatest verse. They will discover your world, you will be found, and your spirit will be in all who were in attendance, and they will always be glad upon your return. In essence, the native spirit is law. And the church was its only barricaded comprehension to get to know that true spirit, aiming their arrows at the head, when deep down, you knew it came from the depths of earth.
But now, you’re involved. You have become participant. You live among the people in misinterpreted sermons. You exist in an incomprehensible yet attractive way where they need you every Sunday to bleed with them again, to see if they can understand you a bit more knowingly. And you’ll go back because she smiled so sweetly. You’ll go back because he judged you so harshly. And soon they will know that you brought the church back to your world. Back to your comprehension. Back to the native spirit that humanely, they never really knew. But they will. And you’ll be left more damaged than when you came in. You will be stirred up and turned into mush. And then when you disappear, they will recall that presence. They will treat you with respect only when you’re gone. You must spoil the hell out of them. Then leave them as they left you in the first place; damaged, broken, and subsided. And that my friends, that is to be healed. To be incomplete, to need humanity. Those are the true prophets. Those are the ones with true religion.