"Ironically it was April Fool's Day, 1975, 6:30am, and I woke up in a doorway on Commercial Boulevard in Ft. Lauderdale, FL. I was thick in an alcoholic fog, sniffing vomit all over my sweater, staring down at my bare feet. I didn't know a wino would steal my shoes during the night to buy a bottle of Thunderbird, but one did. I had been out on the street for a year and a half, drunk every day, sleeping on the beach until the cops chased me away. You could find me in doorways or under the bridge, always clutching my precious little bottle of Tequila. And it wasn't just that this good Franciscan priest drank too much. I broke every one of the Ten Commandments six times Tuesday: adultery, countless acts of fornication, violence to support my addiction, character assassination to anybody who dared to criticize me or remonstrate with me.
This morning I woke up in the alcoholic boozy fog, I looked down the street to see a woman coming toward me, maybe 25 years old, blonde, and attractive. She had her son in hand, maybe 4 years old. The boy broke loose from his mother's grip, ran to the doorway, and stared down at me. His mother rushed in behind him, covering his eyes, and said 'Don't look at that filth. That's nothing but pure filth.' Then I felt her shoe. She broke two of my ribs with that kick.
That filth was Brennan Manning, 32 years ago. And the God I've come to know by sheer grace, the Jesus I met in the grounds of my own self, has furiously loved me regardless of my state---grace or disgrace. And why? For His love is never, never, never based on our performance, never conditioned by our moods---of elation or depression. The furious love of God knows no shadow of alteration or change. It is reliable. And always tender. Until the love of God that knows no boundary, limit, or breaking point is internalized through personal decisions; until the furious longing of God seizes the imagination; until the heart is conjoined to the mind through sheer grace, nothing happens.
Is the kingdom that He proclaimed to be nothing more than a community of men and women, who go to church on Sunday, take an annual spiritual retreat, read their Bibles every now and then, vigorously oppose abortion, don't watch x-rated movies, never use vulgar language, smile a lot, hold doors open for people, root for the favorite team, and get along with everybody? Is that why Jesus went through the bleak and bloody horror of Calvary? Is that why He emerged in shattering glory from the tomb? Is that why He poured out His Holy Spirit on the church? To make nicer men and women with better morals?
The gospel is absurd and the life of Jesus is meaningless unless we believe that He lived, died, and rose again with but one purpose in mind: to make brand-new creations. Not to make people with better morals, but to create a community of prophets and professional lovers, who would surrender to the mystery of the fire of Holy Spirit that urns within, who would live in ever greater fidelity to the omnipresent Word of God, who would enter into the center of it all, the very heart and mystery of Christ, into the center of the flame that consumes, purifies, and sets everything aglow with peace, joy, boldness, and extravagant, furious love.
Abba I belong to You.. It's a prayer of exactly seven syllables, the number that corresponds perfectly to the rhythm of our breathing. As you inhale---Abba. As you exhale---I belong to You.... My name is Brennen Manning, and I'm Daddy's little boy."
Brennan Manning, you will be missed. Especially from this ragamuffin.....
"Cease striving and know that I am God," Psalm 46:10
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-GeVf1XQOPg
