[...continued from part 1]

What, when so much is needed, do I ask for?

Finally, I answer, "O Lord, my God, you have made me a simple servant, and I mean that literally. I don't know at all how to act. I serve you -- okay, I try to serve you -- in the midst of a people whom you have chosen. And some of them are hungry. Some can't buy a job. Some watch discouragement blacken to despair in their sad, forsaken-feeling hearts. The broken are so vast in number they cannot be counted. Give your servant, therefore, an understanding heart to serve your people. And it would be great if, while you're at it, You could help with the knowing what's right and wrong thing. That always comes in handy."

The Lord smiles. He is pleased that his raga-d gal made this request.

"Because you have asked for this -- not long life for yourself, nor for riches, nor for the life of your enemies --"

"I was kinda gonna ask you to do something about the president. I mean, nothing drastic, but ..."

"Let me finish."

"Sorry. Go on. I'm listening."

"Because you have asked for understanding so that you may do what is right -- I do as you requested."

Okay, God probably says more, but I wake up screaming.

Wisdom. And all I had to do was ask for it and he gave it. Just like that. That was the easy part. Now things get complicated. I'll have to open my hands to take someone else's. Drag 'em along if I have to. Anoint them with oil and bless them. Heal, through no power of my own. Wisdom is not just a gift, but a call to act. The lively Sophia is lovely, but she expects a vigorous response.

Am I ready to give, even in my need? Am I ready to hear her whispers and shouts? Sometimes she's maddening with her concise, razor-sharp, single-word requests. She says, "Justice. Peace. Love." And then it's up to me.

I sit up in bed. Peel the pink shroud off my body. Stand like Lazarus freshly risen from the dead. Reach for my rosary to walk through the life of Christ. I think of Jesus as I pray the Creed, Our Father, and three Hail Mary's for an increase in faith, hope, and love. My voice carries over the drone of the air conditioner. Over my doubts and lingering terrors. Calmer now, I think of Jesus' dreams. Wonder if his father came to him saying:

"Ask something of me and I will give it to You."

What would Jesus do? I imagine he probably asked for wisdom, too. He was a good model for our behavior. Waaaay better than Solomon. Did he wake up screaming, wondering how in the world a poor carpenter from Nazareth -- of all places -- could bind up the broken? And how broken we are, in myriad ways, and epic numbers.  

Did he remember who he was? True God and true man.

"The first joyful mystery," I say. "The Annunciation. Jesus comes down from heaven, and dwells in a mere mortal woman. Talk about poor in spirit! That's a heckuva downsize."

And somehow the idea that everything will be all right dawns on my dark night.

I whisper thanks for wisdom, knowing that wrapped in that shining red package is all I need to do what I'm called to do. Even if I'm poor in spirit.

Mine is the kingdom of heaven.

I ask one more thing in the hot, sticky night.

"Pray for us sinners ..."

I pray it over and over for decades.

Claudia Mair Burney is a novelist and a member of theGuild, along with Melvin Bray (language artist),  Lisa Samson (novelist), Yaisha Harding (writer), Ercell Watson (comedian), Daniel Ra (singer-songwriter), Eugene Russell (singer-songwriter-rapper-actor), Russell Rathbun (storyteller), Daley Hake (photographer), Ed Sohn (multimedia artist), and Prisca Kim (writer). Learn more on theGuild's Facebook page.

I believe that most of our faith metaphors have either been domesticated, adulterated, appropriated, become insular, or are utterly sedate. They either serve little, serve the wrong, serve ourselves, or serve nothing. All of which is a serious problem, for images move the hearts of humanity. They motivate and inspire. If images of a creation saved from a flood of its own contempt, or of a small and wayfaring, yet covenant people given a gift for the whole world, or of an exiled and seemingly forgotten people desperately trying to hold onto a promise of restoration, or the tragicomedy of the violent genocide of all that is good, beautiful, just, and true that gave way to a resurrection no one saw coming that unleashed grace upon the world, sent forgiveness viral and invited all to join in recreation -- if such images do no more than simply make us excited (a feeling of diminishing return, to be sure) or uncomfortable (a feeling we undoubtedly don't like but to which we are easily inured), we're -- or better yet, the world is -- in trouble.

Out of concern for this, I was inspired to organize theGuild, a group of artists with tongues to taste and lips to articulate the justice of the kingdom of God. I've been toying for about two years with the idea of a guild as a metaphor for followers of God in the way of Jesus. A guild seems inherently others-interested and action-oriented, which is essential, I believe, to doing justly, loving mercy, and walking humbly with God. As bondfellows committed to this, the members of theGuild will ply our arts in hopes of giving you ears to hear and eyes to see the stories of resurrection in new and living ways.

So whenever you see this banner, prepare to be transported to a place beyond the usual posture of argument and counter-argument. A place where we can perhaps see ourselves and not just hear and talk about ourselves. And if we listen closely enough, I have the suspicion we just might overhear the gospel.

Melvin Bray is a language artist and a member of theGuild, along with Lisa Samson (novelist), Yaisha Harding (writer), Ercell Watson (comedian), Daniel Ra (singer-songwriter), Eugene Russell (singer-songwriter-rapper-actor), Russell Rathbun (storyteller), Daley Hake (photographer), Ed Sohn (multimedia artist), Prisca Kim (writer), and Claudia Burney (novelist). Learn more on theGuild's Facebook page.