more about this sight

"you're packing a suitcase for a place that you've never been...a place that has to be believed to be seen"...'Walk On' by U2

WATERSHED: A voice in the wilderness. DARYL UNDERWOOD.


The concept of Centerpoint Christianity briefly stated is:

Christianity from the centerpoint outward.

Christianity from the climax forward.

This blog constitutes concepts for a new view of Christianity that begins with what is foundational and moves forward from that point. It is based on the assumption that we are being pulled towards something unseen and pushed from a place that once was.

What Centerpoint Christianity attempts to do is bypass some of the constraints imposed by metanarratives by using the life of Christ and particularly the climactic actions of Christ as beginning points.

It supports the conviction that God is essentially timeless. From this beginning point we endeavor to move outward from the definitive moment of the parousia (visitation) of Christ and forward to the future which functions as a type of magnet to "what can be--and is coming".

When we begin at the life of Christ and move outward as from the centerpoint of a web, rather than in a linear timeline of history, another wide picture emerges.

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'The hottest places in hell are reserved for those who in a period of moral crisis maintain their neutrality. There comes a time when silence becomes betrayal'--Dante

'Come on up to the rising. Come on up lay your hand in mine.'--Bruce Springsteen's song 'The Rising'

A dark night; a cold sweat; followed by a dry day; a long walk. The dry mouth feels like paste. The realization of warm blood running down theface. The taste of salt and iron. And you want to vomit but instead you stand transfixed and gaze at this wreck.

What happened here?

In the end they didn’t want to hear any more from him. They were weary of the tension He brought into their world. They had had it with him. To put him away would be a relief. Why didn't he just let it go? Why did he have to always push the envelope? He caused this, you know, I mean He could see it coming and in fact, invited it in. Those stories. The turning of the tables. To get it over with would allow everyone to get back to normal. The rabble back to their cave, the compromisers to their 'cul-de-sac'. No one changes the system. The system simply takes care of you...handles you.

And I think he knew it, too. Instinctively we know it when they want us to leave the room, to give it up, to settle down and 'let it be'. Tight lip stares on one side and gaze avoidance from the other. Never lock eyes with a 'dead man walking' lest you begin to care.

It was Dante who said, ''The hottest places in hell are reserved for those who in a period of moral crisis maintain their neutrality. There comes a time when silence becomes betrayal'-- and humans held their 'peace' and spoke not a word--and this crisis was met with the silence of the witness. Silence becomes 'betrayal'. Neutrality is the coward's excuse. And everyone excused themselves from the room. They still do.

When you are alone--really alone--you can choose to panic or face this fate with dignity. From the first sweat of blood in Gethsemane to the generous flow of liquid from His spear pierced side at Golgotha, it seems Jesus words were few. What more was there to say?

No one was really listening anyway. He chose dignity.

at the place, at the cross, on the street, high noon

We just stand there while He wastes away. When I look around this place I am not alone. And some people are washing their hands and making their way to the exits already. The show is over. Final credits roll. The fire flickers and I look your way.

'I saw you there.'

‘No you didn’t'.

'Oh yes I did'.

And you just look away and leave. We all walk away from this mess, this cross, to get on with our lives. From the footprints we leave behind I begin to smell something rising. Out of the ordinary. In the impression where we once trod I see a silver thorn, a bloody rose. And a sweet scent emanates from the mud of the earth. It comes up. Rising ever rising. It is the smell of forgiveness coming up. Forgiveness. Unsolicited, unwanted mercy. Forgiveness is the fragrance that the flower leaves on the heel of the one who crushed it—and it is rising right where you and I walked.

Songwriter Don McLean has crafted a song about Vincent Van Gogh but every time I hear it I see Jesus. I feel Jesus.

Hear the Jesus lullaby. It’s taps for the Son of God.

And when no hope was left inside
on that starry, starry night
you took your life as lovers often do
But I could have told you, Vincent

This world was never meant
for one as beautiful as you

Starry, starry night
Portraits hung in empty halls
Frameless heads on nameless walls
with eyes that watch the world and can't forget

Like the strangers that you've met
the ragged men in ragged clothes
a silver thorn, a bloody rose
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow

Now I think I know what you tried to say to me
and how you suffered for your sanity
and how you tried to set them free
they would not listen, they're not listening still

Perhaps they never will...

Come on up to the rising. Come on up lay your hand in mine.

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