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Mark Wilson

Koyaanisqatsi: Life Out of Balance

December 30, 2020 | By | One Comment

I was seven years old when Koyaanisqatsi: Life Out of Balance was released. That was also the year that I became conscious of God’s indwelling Holy Spirit and chose to move Him to the center of my awareness. The hymn I Have Decided To Follow Jesus, which has always been one of my favorites, took on greater meaning and I found myself slipping out from the pew one Sunday morning and walking down the aisle to publicly declare the decision I’d made to put myself in the orbit of Jesus.

I was baptized by my father later that year, buried to sin and death, and raised to new life. I don’t fully comprehend the mystery of the sacraments, but I know that when I came up out of that water my reality had shifted. My old friend, that small, still voice who has always been with me, began to speak more clearly. In those conversations, those inner whisperings of truth, I began to see those places in which life is out of balance, within myself and within the world around me. My newfound awareness of the dissonance between the actuality of our experience and its ultimate potential manifested itself in the usual ways, disappointment, sadness, anger, and shame, but beneath it all ran a golden seam of hope.

I have not always chosen to accept hope’s invitation to move toward balance, alignment, and harmony with our Creator, and myself. At times I have succumbed to the slumber of despair, drifting through life, half asleep, numbing myself with whatever diversion or distraction I stumbled upon. Yet, there continue to be those moments of encounter, when the time is right, that I find myself in that thin space, on the threshold between this plane and another, and I discover again that the journey is in the return. 

I often find that it takes some bit of unpleasantness to wake me from that slumber, as the challenges of this year have served to do. It has not been an easy year, but I am disappointed, even discouraged, when I am faced with what feels like a collective desire for it to be behind us. It’s almost as if there is a desire to drift into sleep on December 31st and never wake from the dream that everything has returned to the way it was before, and we can proceed with business as usual. Read More

We Are Scum and We Belong

January 25, 2019 | By | 7 Comments

The atmosphere in the park is heavy. Several police officers and park rangers stand nearby, ensuring that bags are being packed and that everyone is moving along. It’s been a good afternoon, nonetheless. I meet a young couple named after trees, both deciduous and coniferous, whose dogs know who to bark at and who to sniff approvingly. Rounding the corner in front of the library I run into a friend. He warns me to be gentle with his arm which is suffering from an abscess. I’m reminded of an old John Prine lyric, “There’s a hole Read More

Come, Lord Jesus

December 18, 2018 | By | 3 Comments

Warning: The following contains a slice of life, raw and unfiltered.  While you may find it less palatable than honey, it is no less sweet. Though editing or cleaning up language might make it easier to stomach, it serves to diminish the pain and lament that hungers for righteousness and justice.  The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

Come, Lord Jesus!

Civic Center Park buzzes with activity.  The hustle and bustle is not that associated with the season showcased in lights and displayed in front of the City and County building, it is the daily grind of addiction, a liturgy of despair.

Robbie and I are taking in the scene when he spots a longtime friend.  I read her story in the tattoos covering her arms and face. Read More

On Pilgrimage

November 15, 2018 | By | One Comment

Thoughts by Mark Wilson

Send out your light and your truth, that they may lead me, and bring me to your holy hill and to your dwellingPsalm 43:3 

Not long after I began volunteering with Dry Bones I was introduced to a long time friend with an uncanny ability to reveal the most apt street names.  I don’t know if the staff member making the introduction recognized this to be a prophetic gifting, or merely imagined it to be an amusing party trick, but I was soon answering a string of seemingly random questions.  What the young man gleaned from my answers is a mystery, as is the way that he used them to stare into the center of my being.  After some time he rattled off in his rambling, unbalanced way my hidden name, Traveller, the Blind Robot.  I admit that I was slightly unnerved by the revelation of it, spoken aloud by a seeming stranger.  Little did I know, blind as I am, how quickly my Read More