the end . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .LOST SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!!

please

only scroll down and read if you either have finished lost in its entirety, or you are never likely to watch a single episode. If you are still working on it, I will not be offended if you do not read this post.


I have warned you. Do not be angry at me for finding out something you wished to find out on the show.



Proceed . . .














































































































































everything that has a beginning has an end . . .


the oracle - from the matrix trilogy

I have recently finished Lost. Also, I have apparently rediscovered my appreciation for grammar. Nice.


I love the final episode. If you're a) a Christian and b) someone who has watched Lost, let me tell you why . . . in fact, even if a) doesn't apply, I'm sure you'll find something worthwhile here . . .


There are two phrases that I am absolutely captivated by . . .

this too shall be made right

and

God was, in Christ, reconciling ALL things to Himself

now


watch Lost, watch the final episode, and I dare you not to see a glimpse of this. Please, my Christian brothers and sisters, I'm not interested in a theological debate of the reality of a limbo state or the apparent universalism of the message. The show was not meant to be a platform for a Christocentric world view . . . but it doesn't mean that someone with one can't see hints of what is to come in it.

I cried watching this - because I miss my Oma, I miss Denise Scharringa, I miss Ernesto, and Mr. Fintelman, and scores of other people I have said final good byes too. But that's the beauty, isn't it?


What if good bye is not the end, but a means to a new beginning?

tension

what good would any story be without tension? who wants to read about a protagonist that triumphed over . . . nothing? I mean, I get the existentialism and absurdity of Waiting for Godot, but please - it's not that entertaining. and it certainly isn't life . . .


sidenote - i'm feeling a little e e cummings - ish today, though I still like capitalized first person pronouns and titles. anyway . . .


here is a little bit of tension in my life - having come through a period of time in which I've gone from looking at myself as something of a failure, something worthless, to seeing that I am a work in progress, to seeing that, well, I'm made in the image of an infinite being and bear that image well, and in my own unique way (as do you, whoever you may be), and after coming through the same period in which I swore I would never even consider dating again (a shortsighted vow, to be sure),

I find that there is this tug at this little heart of mine. there is this tension.

i can continue to explore the depths of this romance i find myself in with the One who alone offers that which I really want by myself, moving in silence like a chess piece, watching as my whole world revolves around the position of my King. I can dance my heart out for this One, and only this One, who doesn't care if I stumble, only that I get back up. I can be safe in this divine harmony, this instant as thought connection, where no explanation is needed by either party for anything, and there is no second guessing motives. I am never not loved, never not respected, never seen as anything other than what I really am . . . never misunderstood. Never unknown.

I am also never snuggled with, never hugged, never embraced by this One - it is tough to do those things when you lack a physical body . . . we will never have sex, which I'm not sure how that would work anyway, and I realize seems borderline blasphemous, but the truth is if you are going to embark on a journey where you choose to embrace this Romance and only this Romance, then a vow of chastity is a must.

I'm not okay with that. that is as delicately as I think I can put it.


and so, the tension - because that aspect, that expression I lack requires that one who will care if I stumble, one who may not always respect me, one who may grow weary of me, second guess and be second guessed by me, one who will misunderstand and be misunderstood by me, be invited into the dance. and this doesn't inspire fear, just caution. see, i want to dance with her.

i'm just not sure who she is. yet.

okay, i'm a little afraid. it is a healthy fear, i hope. no one wants to be hurt, and i for one do not wish to hurt. but it seems like that's par for the course in this dance . . . and again, it's not the pain that I fear, but the response to it.

because this is the kind of dance you want to dance for the rest of your life with her, and you want to know and she wants to know if you're in it for real, or just dancing because you're bored . . .


oh, tension