One

Admittedly, I’m a wishful-but-not-near rebel. I do really little things that people don’t normally do so I feel like I’m rebelling. For example, the other day I put on all my clothes and realized I looked normal. So what does a rebel do? He puts on his half-turquoise half-plum Converses. Impressive, right?

 

But no joke it made me feel cool, so shut up about it already. I do the same thing with the Bible (stop, I’m listening to a playlist on shuffle and Good Charlotte’s “Hold On” came on and you have no idea how happy I am . . . okay). No, I really do.

 

It’s like this: we study Paul’s letters so much, and it really bothers me. Like, we are called Christians right? So shouldn’t we read the gospels more or something? Sophomoric, I realize, but I feel that sentiment all the same.

 

Despite the incredibly rebellious act of not reading Paul, I am going through Ephesians. Ugh. I know. It just sounds stupid and defeating. But I am, I admit it, I’m going through Ephesians and I really like it. I mean, I’ve read it before but you need to read things over and over and over again for them to sink in.

 

Just read this, it’s the first six verses of chapter 4 in Ephesians: “Therefore I, the prisoner of the Lord, implore you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, showing tolerance for one another in love, being diligent to preserve the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as also you were called in one hope of your calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all who is over all and through all and in all.”

 

Oh snap. Look at all the words in that passage: humility, gentleness, patience, tolerance in love, diligent, unity of the Spirit, peace, one body, one Spirit, one hope, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father, over all.

 

When I think of my life, when I think of the world, when I think of the Church, one is not a word that comes to mind. In fact, so distant is the word one from our being that is seems distant—distant like the word love is to me—distant like the East and the West—distant like humility and peace—but these traits, these ideals seemingly, are not so distant because of Christ, because of Adonai and the Spirit, because of the incarnation, crucifixion, and resurrection of the Messiah.

 

Jesus tells us, in John chapter 15: “Apart from Me you can do nothing.” (You like that? My blog is like the Bible! Calm down I’m kidding. Why is my writing so giddy today? I feel like a girl or something—or happy? What is that?)

 

How awesome is that! I cannot do anything without Christ! I cannot have love without Christ, I cannot have humility without Christ, I cannot have peace without Christ, I cannot have one without Christ. One.

 

Here’s what one isn’t: every day I commit flagrant harlotry to my Lord, like Ephraim in Hosea, and every day I put things before the Lord (stupid little things like my writing and my tiny well-being) . . . I do stupid things that I shouldn’t and I sin and must look horrible to God who is sad that I am not following, loving Him as I should be.

 

Here’s what one is: one is Christ coming in flesh—one is the Father sending the Son to be born in a manger with hay in a barn that smells like horse shit—one is Christ living a perfect, a perfect life—one ­is Christ being nailed on a cross and bleeding like no one should—one is the gift of the Spirit—one is perfect communion with the Trinity—one is our God.

 

Our Lord is one