I am bound for the promised land...

This old hymn shows up on my radio and it is running round and round in my mind. I am bound, I am bound, I am bound for the promised land. Okay, I coming out of the theological closet here. Though I see my big white Goddess everyday, I am a Christian, and I am going to heaven. I can't wait. I've already seen it, I've already heard them singing, I've talked to the people there. It is as real as sunrise tomorrow. I have no doubt. I am bound for the promised land.

In the meantime, I building little pieces of it here, now, wherever I can. In the bible the language used is "The Kingdom of God," a difficult to understand term. Misinterpretation of that term is what got Jesus killed, he didn't do King stuff and it really pissed off the Jews. I guess I'd be pissed off too. "Geez, Jesus, you can raise Lazarus from the dead, but you won't bother to smash a few thousand Romans for us?" Anyway, kingdom building is the point, day to day making those little realms of peace, of safety, of belonging, of heaven. That is the point. It is a practice. If we can practice it and practice it, when the body is gone, you just keep right on doing it.

But how? Today I watched my favorite TV preacher again, Joyce Meyer. Oh my, she shoulda been a dyke, with that voice, that hair, that walk, that don'tgivemeanycrap attitude. She's fabulous. She is all about the little day to day stuff, making it right, right where you are. It's not okay to wear a pretty gold cross while you're bitching at your neighbor who just let her dog crap in your flowers again. She's good at getting people, especially women, to see that we have to rein in our bitchiness (and she is admittedly experienced with that). But what does she have to say to the fearful, to those of us who feel so small that we could not possibly ever carry one stone to build the kingdom? What about those of us who are so busy with being nice, and being sick, and being liked, and being quiet, just hoping we don't piss off anyone big enough to hurt us again, just hoping we have a little spot by the wall to be left alone 'til it's all over?

Preachers are powerful people, people with a mission, and a voice, people brave enough to stand up in front of crowd and call out the spirit. Maybe they are kingdom builders, but what about the rest of us who have trouble even calling out the spirit in our little bedrooms all by our selves? It is highly improbable to believe in the coming of the kingdom in the afterlife, almost impossible to see it being built in the world as it is now, and completely unbelievable that we could be anyone worthy enough or strong enough to contribute anything to building that realm of peace and power and joy now. Those guys must be talking to someone else, right?

I just wanna make my mortgage payment next month, I just wanna get my period over with, I just need to get my son to finish that stupid book report, I just wanna get laid again. And I woke up with the hundred year old face of my mother again this morning and cramps, and my feet hurt to touch the floor and my hands are stiff and cold and my customers are over sixty days late paying me and I haven't given myself a vacation in so many years I don't even remember when,... and how can any god possibly expect me build a world of grace and peace and hope out of this crap? I get diarrhea just having to talk with my mother.

But I still believe it. And I still believe I'm doing it, not by my strength, but just by holding on to my Goddess, just holding on in prayer, every day, in lots of little decisions, just holding on to a little peace right here. Just breathing, and trying again. Just holding on. And I am bound, I am bound, I am bound for the promised land.