Preach it, sister!

Sometimes I think I should have a whole other blog, just called "Talking To Peacebang" because I love her blogs so much and she so often elicits a response from me, other than "yeah, me too" which is what I usually look for in a fellow journeyer on the blogway.

For example, recently she blogged that she was bummed out by dates with messy or badly decorated apartments, which got me thinking about how no one can do it all, and maybe the perfect guy is out there, lacking only Peacebang's keen eye and sense of fashion to make him complete. I was going to tell her, maybe helping a guy figure out just how to decorate his place would be the perfect way to really get something going....and it could be fun! I was going to tell her not to write off those guys with gross apartments just automatically. I thought it would be funny if I could work in that quote from Clueless when Cher is talking about the guy she has a crush on, and she's all "He's such a snappy dresser. What would I bring to the relationship?"

Anyway, I never got around it to it. And who has time to start another blog? I can hardly keep up this one.

Turns out Peacebang's REAL persona is as great a writer as her bloggy one. And here's some of my favorite writing on Jesus since Dorothy Sayers. I'm definitely keeping this quote handy as it pretty much says it just as I would, if I could, you know, write like this. Which I cant. But I sure am grateful that writing like this is out there.

Who is Jesus Christ to me? He is both a teacher of the Way, and the Way itself. For one who has always had a hard time grasping the concept of God, let alone developing a working definition of God, Jesus both points me toward a definition of God and then lives that definition. Jesus Christ is the freedom that laughs uproariously at the things of this world, while loving me dearly for being human enough to lust after them. He is my soul’s safety from all harm. He is the avatar of aloneness, a compassionate and unsentimental narrator of the soul’s exile on earth, and proof of the soul’s triumphant homecoming at the end of the incarnational struggle. He is not afraid to put his hands anywhere to affect healing. He mourns, and weeps, and scolds, and invites. He is life more abundant and conqueror of the existential condition of fear.