Dylan Thomas wrote his prophetic poem after the tragedy of global war. His work attempted to make sense of a generation of possibilities wasted, laid slain on the plains of Europe. He promised survivors that "death shall have no dominion," a promise so simple and hopeful, yet so tragically defiant of all knowable evidence.

The death of young Regan Carmichael has effected me in a way that I cannot quit yet name. How does one process the death of a three month old? How does one cling to heavenly promises in spite of the temporal experience of suffering? How does one explain the belief in a loving father after witnessing Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, or what ever it was?

"Death Shall Have No Dominion" was a tool for easing pain, but that vision doesn't comfort me anymore. My eyes are too open.

How dare God plant that tree?

I was listening to an Indigo Girls CD yesterday when I heard a line that stuck out to me for the first time. It said, "It was my thirst that brought me to the water." Such a simple quote nearly knocked me down because it seemed a near perfect way to describe that terrible and vital struggle between by mind and my creator. I wrestle with the rationale of God like Jacob wrestled with the angel when he was christened 'Israel.' And the lovely ladies singing to me from my stereo reminded me that this struggle is precisely what binds me to God.

The inconsistencies of my faith nearly tare me apart sometimes. I can not wholly accept a God that would waste His time creating people that would ultimately reject Him, then writhe in suffering and sin for it. Yet I can not deny that the grace I believe He extended to me in spite of myself soothes my bitter soul. Nor can I deny that I have seen the touch of the divine in the love of my wife and the laugh of my nephew. It drives me crazy to love the god that created them and spit at the god that created cancer and hate. But struggling with all of this means engaging God and the world, and draws me to Him in the end. I still believe that there are angles and demons duking it out over me, but now I know that I am in the fight too. And both sides have some answering to do.

My feet proffer hallelujahs with each step
and from the earth graces rise to meet
caressed by grass, seduced by whispers of the wind
I lie down in gentle lush retreat.

She's in love with a boy
who's in love with himself
Just walk away
let your heart break
because it can get worse

He's in love with a girl
who's in love with the abyss
and all the other things most people miss
questions don't have to be answered
just asked

"O lantern, bye-bye-bye
If you throw a stone at it, your hand withers away
O lantern, bye-bye-bye."

(This is a child's rhyme, taken from the novel Silence, by Shusaku Endo. It supposedly came from the Japanese festival of Urabon. However, I do not know if even the festival is actual or a literary devise of Endo's to show the supposed smiting of God to those who first curse Him.)

The mountain of God is a Rock
It is a weight
It is a burden
It is insurmountable

The Mountain of God is a vision
It is a taunter
It is a venom
It runs heavy in the veins

The Mountain of God is cold and haunting
It looms over like the moon
It is unavoidable
It devours the dream

The Mountain of God is as evil as it is good
It is cocky and patient
It challenges a summit
It is the beginning and end

The mountain of God is a frightening thing
It is a personal and duplicitous journey
It is the inferno and the beasts cave
It is the damnation and salvation of the soul

The Mountain of God is the Mountain of Man