Marking Time

I'm sure you've heard as many theories offered as I have for what Jesus wrote in the dirt that day that drove away the accusers of a woman caught in adultery. One of the more popular beliefs is that Jesus began writing out specific sins of her accusers. I think there is a certain danger in reading into scripture what's not there. Too much of it has already been meddled with thru the years from copy to copy. It seems many people struggle to grasp the simple humanity of Jesus and find it hard to believe he could have lived his life as a mere man.

Can you imagine all of the shrines, the denominations, the religious relics that would have been built around the drawing of Jesus in the sand had it only been recorded? I'm glad it was trampled on. Too much of religious tradition focuses on the "what" and not the "why." I believe the intent and the spirit of what could be holy has been lost on making sure we get it just right. I think it was Rob Bell who suggested in his book Velvet Elvis that by writing in the dirt Jesus was simply "marking time." It afforded time for cooler heads to prevail and simple words to disarm self-righteousness, "If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her."

"Marking time" is a good description for these hot Louisiana summer days. Aside from a few grueling road trips to Florida for work. Time is dragging on slowly and lazily with all of us around the house for a change. We've been "passing the time" reading, playing, watching movies, and picking vegetables from our garden. We've been tracking down old friends on the internet, and I've been doing much neglected work on my family tree searching for memories and discovering old stories.

I am keenly aware of what time it is, what time it has been. I know that these hot summer days are elusive as the sand, and fall will wash them out to sea for another year. I know that these footprints pressed into Florida sand by feet five years and counting were gone by morning. I know that in time I will be a name and dates on some one's forgotten limb.

We hear too much of "wars and rumors of wars" these days. The powers that be have given us a new "hill on which to die," yet another ideological struggle that spills every one's blood but their own. These battles aren't waged on mountains but on piles of sand, and the tide is coming. Life isn't about being right. It's about being together. So we wait... marking time, making memories together.