Rusty's Armory

And God Breathed the Breath of Life

Posted on April 28, 2018

It feels odd to suddenly go from cold mornings to sunrises near 80° in one day.  I chose this property as a place where I would finish out my life, spending it searching for the presence of God rather than trying to pack more book learning.  I tried that, and became a saturated sponge of knowledge without any spiritual power.

Early in my walk I had a learned mentor who held doctorates in religion and philosophy, and although an agnostic, he put me on the firm path of standing in belief.  God has used a parade of flawed guides to direct my feet, from an ex-football jock cum used truck salesman who slept in the trucks he sold who taught me that you need a principle to be true to, to a crazed sex addict who taught me that a spiritual path always carries self-doubt with it.

Over the years my knowledge of his word has grown, and I still pore over scriptures seeking out His presence.  The apostles spent much time stamping out heresy in the early congregations, yet those congregations moved in great power despite their lack of scriptural sophistication.  From that I learned that theology, while important, is not the goal that I pursue.

So I have hung out in the first chapters of Genesis for a few years now, seeking out the basis for my relationship with God and an answer to why the body of Messiah is so powerless.  Yeah, I have heard all the excuses, but truthfully, the edah does NOT move in the power of that first century body.

T I have long wished to share the beauty of those revelations, but alas!  I am not a teacher.  I am a braying jackass, and all I heard while teaching those revelations was my hee hawing.  So you will just have to seek out those pearls on your own.  I have enough opportunities to sound like a braying ass as it is.

So, it is back to my little porch garden.  I filled the little waterfall in the corner, soaked the bed of sweet alyssums, and sort of picked things up and straightened a few things.  A rich and cooling ichor arose from the planters as they engorged themselves with water.  Peace has returned to my little sanctuary in the Pampas in central Texas, and I catch the breath of God that pours into this lump fashioned from the red clay.