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 river

'And when no hope was left inside on that starry starry night--you took your life as lovers often do'--Don Maclean in the song Vincent.

Springsteen's song 'The River' speaks of disappointment. Dreams dashed. Hope deferred. Heartbroken. It didn't turn out. Tell me if you can 'is a dream a lie if it don't come true--or is it something worse--that drives us down to the river'.

I think believing, hoping, trusting, grasping for something that doesn't turn out  is 'something' worse than a lie. It can break our spirit, our heart and in the worst of circumstances our body and our soul.

Believing in something can bring us down to the river. And Jesus drowned there. And so do I. We all go under in the sea of despond. In a horror of sorrow. Whether it is on a mud-caked mount or a wind wrecked sea doesn't matter. It's the dying dream which tells the story. And don't you think He was disappointed. And don't you think it was hard. And don't we want to make it better. Don't we want to sooth the hurt and aren't we eager to look away from the tragedy.

'I act like I don't remember, Mary acts like she don't care'.

And we certainly avoid the river at all cost. But it is waiting for us. Memories haunt us, trail us, shadow us till they catch us.

Here it is. Crushed and broken. A bruised reed. They crucified my friend on this hill. No, not them. It was this place, this earth, this bloody and broken world. This disappointment envelops me. This dream dashed. This thing called the fall is like a shroud.

It didn't turn out. For a tragedy to be true there has to be a low. And God descends. Like Alice in Wonderland he tumbles down the rabbit hole, down the well, and down the stairs till he lands on the lowest point on the earth. It is a place called the skull. This is where we find Him. It is in the bottom of the river where the sediment lies. And I could have told you Jesus, this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.

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