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“There’s a reason He called us His Body and not His Estate.”
That’s what Tib Pearson told me.
Tib - Red - Wing - Workboots - John
Tib with his Red Wing workboots and worn John Deere hat and hands weathered and etched like a greying cedar rail.
“A Body is connected with sinew and vein — and an estate is divided with fences and line.”
Hands - Way - Man - Land - Wire
He said it with his hands, the way a man of the land does, and you could see how his hands knew rusted wire and gnarled barbs and how to free things caught in fences.
“You gotta cut down the fences – or you cut up the Body.”
Tib - Anything
I’m not saying Tib knew anything, really.
Just maybe saying something about how to open up the earth and suffer a bit, so there is yield, how the Christ had commanded on Maundy Thursday, maundatam Thursday, Thursday of the new mandate, that command of the Last supper:
“A new command I give you: Love one another.
As I have loved you, so you must love one another.
The way we live that?
You’d think it was some flimsy, take-it-or-leave-it suggestion.
Disciples - Number - Points - Creeds - Books
You’d think disciples are actually known by the number of points of their creeds, or the acceptable books on their shelves, or the right conferences on their calendars, or the approved names they drop in the church foyer.
You’d think Christ’s own were known by who they avoid, who they disdain, who they call out, who they label. You’d think being known by your love was being known as a liberal instead of a Christian, and there are thousand things backward about this.
Man - Tib - Pearson
Do you tell a man like Tib Pearson that you think we’re all getting torn apart?
That it feels like someone is trying to rip us sisters apart at the holy limbs, that love is laughed at as the anemic brother of muscular truth, and that acerbic...
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