Words to My Son

I woke up this morning thinking of you and this place you're in. It seems to me that you may be experiencing what I have in the past called, "an invitation too sweet to refuse". Son, a person doesn't just decide to walk away from unhealthy relationships and their drama, to quit smoking, to stop taking their "drugs", to determine to even quit coffee, and to be "stimulant free" - well, he doesn't just make that kind of choice on his own. Something deep inside him determines it's time for a "new birth", and issues an invitation to a "new life". And it sounds so delicious, we just can't refuse it.

And dear old Fr. Richard Rohr was the first one to tell me, "You can't be born again until you die first." Who knew?

Anyway, I woke up very early this morning remembering a poem (an epic!) I wrote a number of years ago, entitled Born Again. I want to share the poem with you - it's long, but so too is the journey of new birth. As I wrote this poem, I became the baby being born, feeling the difficulty of being born. I don't think I had ever thought about what it felt like to be born. I knew what it felt like to give birth, and believe me, that's not easy, but the morning I wrote this poem, I was experiencing "transition" as the baby in the womb, instead of the mother giving birth, and I think, from the baby's point of view, it has to feel like death.

As I wrote the poem, I think I came to the conclusion, that you and I don't "choose" to be born again. That doesn't fit my old evangelical understanding, but babies don't make the choice to begin the journey from womb to birth. That choice is made for them because they outgrow the space they are in. You've outgrown your old space son. You don't have any choice but to be born again - or to die, because that's what will happen if you stay where you are too long. Now, I don't have a clue how long "too long" is - it's metaphorically speaking, of course.

So, before this letter gets so darn long that even a blog post won't hold it, this is the poem I wrote. I think it must have been about 2010? I think I wrote it before I went to Arizona (2011), which is when I think I "broke through that damn door" and was actually "born again". At any rate, this is MY experience of being "born again".  I told Scott McKay MANY years ago that I had been born again and born again and born again, many times...but this new birth was probably the most excruciating new birth of this lifetime. I think maybe it's the only time I truly "died" first. OK, so here's the poem...

Born – Again

Part 1, In Utero

Inside this small Evangelical Worldview womb,

With its safe, hard, well-defined parameters -

And The Book,

literal, factual, true,

66 books within The Book,

answers for life on every page,

and the God-Man, my ticket “home”,

There is no room for question or mystery,

story or growth.

If one doesn’t grow,

The womb that’s meant to give life

brings death, and

the Baby dies.

She chooses instead to grow,

and begins kicking against the

too-small, too-tight womb.

Her limbs tangle, wadding into a tight, little ball.

There is no room.

Her back is bent, her body is wound tight,

her head is too big for this small space.

Her fists doubled, ready to punch.

She kicks, hits, fights.

LET ME OUT; THIS BOX TOO SMALL!

She can’t breath, and the

food no longer nourishes or satisfies.

There must be more.

Part 2, Transition

Violent Force begins the upheaval.

Her journey into the dark night begins.

The womb that once seemed so small,

now seems large compared to this “birthing tunnel”,

this  place of seeming death.

It is total blackness.  There is no room at all.

She is suffocating, yet

she is still being pushed by Violent Force.

This Baby would stop the journey if she could.

She would choose death if she could.

But Violent Force continues to push her

through this all-too-tight underground passageway.

The earth quakes and walls close in and bear down.

Violent Force relentlessly pushes her forward,

upside down,

scrunched tight, her arms pinned so close she can’t move,

legs extended, and her head pressed against a wall.

The damned door will not open.

and her head, too big, hurts as it presses

against the wall that won’t give.

Violent Force doesn’t relent, but instead

chooses to continue convulsing this baby

against that damned wall.

Surely the next contraction will result in blessed death,

and she waits for stillness to finally come.

Part 3, New Birth

The wall finally gives way,

and an opening appears.

Faster than lightning,

in the twinkling of an eye,

the Baby is born.

The unsettled disturbance is over.

The earthquake ends.

She has been born

into a new place,

a new space.

I am out! 

I am free! 

I can breathe!

Part 4, Adjustment

and Mother

New birth has brought her freedom

and room to grow—

but there is nothing familiar now.

And this place seems scary, too.

There is so much light she cannot see

and so much room, she no longer feels the edges.

Her legs flail and her arms grope.       

She reaches and grasps

for something familiar to hold onto.

Her old Evangelical Womb, with all its boundaries,

its Book, with all the answers

it’s God/Man, who is “the Way” -

Where has it all gone?

She can’t find her way “home”,

and this new place seems too big

too open, too free, too bright,

with so much light she cannot see.

Mother Mystery comes and wraps her warm blanket of Love

tightly around this little one

until she feel safe again.

And this place?

This new space?

Is it home?

She is so small, and

this new place is so big,

so unfamiliar.

The only language she speaks now is tears.

She wails for the safety of her old home,

for familiar food, for familiar boundaries,

to be held, to be understood

But wait, there is something now holding her.

She feels the arms of Mother Mystery

encircle her.

At last, for just a moment, peace comes

as she rests in her Mothers arms.

I don’t know where I am.

I have no ideas yet formed.

I am not comfortable here

but I have a feeling this new place is now “home”.

There is room to grow.

Eventually my eyes will become accustomed to this new light,

and I have a Mother who holds and carries me.

This new place is now home, albeit unfamiliar,

it is home.

And I suspect it’s at least as safe

as my old Evangelical womb.

Ok, so see, it is long. You only took 4 hours to be born, my quickest delivery, but Joe took 23 hours, so consider this a 23-hour birthing poem. 

I have no clue how long this process will take for you. I think mine took about 7 years before I felt the break through. Saints of old called it "the dark night". No matter what you call it, it's a death to an old way and a birth into something new. I am praying for you - for a safe delivery through this "transition" period. I love you. I believe in you, and I believe in God IN you. Transition is the most difficult part of giving birth. And in THIS process, you are both mother and baby, so, no, it's not going to be easy. It will be the most difficult thing you've ever done, but you will be born into a spacious new place, and a spacious new way of living your life. I have no clue what it will look like, or how it will feel for you, except there will be a place inside you that knows you've done it.  You've done the work, and you are a new person indeed.