Visiting Elvis
January 18th 2007 02:31
A four-year-old recently scaled the fence that had been built to protect him, and wandered away for a mile, until he came to the river. He never went any further. A patrolling helicopter found him there, drowned.
It wasn’t that his parents had not done everything they could. They knew the problems with their autistic son and had the fence especially built, but he climbed over it. A normal four-year-old would not require these protective extremes, but this child had a communication problem, and his relationships were not normal. He was determined on his own path and it destroyed him. Once he separated himself from the wisdom of his parents it was only a matter of time before something went wrong.
He only had to look about him and enjoy the safety and provision of his family home. Everything was there for him and he lacked nothing. Yet another voice spoke to him and he listened to it, and died, and broke his parents’ hearts. Perhaps each would have died in his place if it could give him life, but that was not to be.
We too have a beautiful home, with oceans to sail, mountains to climb, a painted sky each night, and the voice of the builder to comfort and protect, to offer wisdom and truth.
Yet so often we listen to the other voice that says “You are not free here. Go out on your own. You don’t need God to tell you what to do. You can do it your way.”
Elvis Presley listened to that voice. He had everything he needed in God’s house, love, comfort, truth, wisdom, the ability to prosper. But there was another voice, most commandingly, flatteringly seductive, that offered him great fame, riches and wealth in return for his soul.
There was a bargain drawn, a contract written. He had to leave his Father’s (God’s) house, and flout his sexuality to get the money. In order to do that, like any woman in a brothel, he needed a blinder, something to hide the pain of remorse and shame. He took the drugs, although he must have known their deadly power. Of course it all started out wonderfully well. But the rot became established, invincible, and speedily terminal. He died too early.
I wonder, if he had known the real cost, whether he would have left God’s house. If he had read the small print in the contract, and known it would cost him forty years of his life – the better half of his life – would he have scaled the fence of wisdom and ventured out?
What about me? Do I have spiritual autism?
It wasn’t that his parents had not done everything they could. They knew the problems with their autistic son and had the fence especially built, but he climbed over it. A normal four-year-old would not require these protective extremes, but this child had a communication problem, and his relationships were not normal. He was determined on his own path and it destroyed him. Once he separated himself from the wisdom of his parents it was only a matter of time before something went wrong.
He only had to look about him and enjoy the safety and provision of his family home. Everything was there for him and he lacked nothing. Yet another voice spoke to him and he listened to it, and died, and broke his parents’ hearts. Perhaps each would have died in his place if it could give him life, but that was not to be.
We too have a beautiful home, with oceans to sail, mountains to climb, a painted sky each night, and the voice of the builder to comfort and protect, to offer wisdom and truth.
Yet so often we listen to the other voice that says “You are not free here. Go out on your own. You don’t need God to tell you what to do. You can do it your way.”
Elvis Presley listened to that voice. He had everything he needed in God’s house, love, comfort, truth, wisdom, the ability to prosper. But there was another voice, most commandingly, flatteringly seductive, that offered him great fame, riches and wealth in return for his soul.
There was a bargain drawn, a contract written. He had to leave his Father’s (God’s) house, and flout his sexuality to get the money. In order to do that, like any woman in a brothel, he needed a blinder, something to hide the pain of remorse and shame. He took the drugs, although he must have known their deadly power. Of course it all started out wonderfully well. But the rot became established, invincible, and speedily terminal. He died too early.
I wonder, if he had known the real cost, whether he would have left God’s house. If he had read the small print in the contract, and known it would cost him forty years of his life – the better half of his life – would he have scaled the fence of wisdom and ventured out?
What about me? Do I have spiritual autism?
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