Subway Sermon

I sat on a subway today, thinking about my future. I sat and wondered what or whom I need to meet to take the next step to further myself in this big dog-eat-your-face-off world. There is really no better place to come to terms with the cold indifference of the world's backside than in NYC. Don't get me wrong, it is a wonderful place, but like anything beautiful or majestic, it can be terribly dangerous, if approached naively or arrogantly. All earthly beauty dangles upon this powerful, odd truth. From the greatest mountain in the Alps to the smallest frail rose in my mom's garden. It isn't a paradox really- that something beautiful is dangerous. It is the starkest reality of fallen man. We fear what we cannot control, because anything truly beautiful controls us, for some period of time, or by some measure. And we tremble in awe as we stand at the edge of those great wonders, all wrought by the hand of God.

So there I sat, on a light green subway seat, rumbling through the dark underbelly of the city, trying to predict the future and attempting to ignore the man at the back of the subway car who was yelling his introduction to us all and preparing to sing for a few breadcrumbs. He began to sing, and to all of our surprises, the man wasn't bad. Not only was he not bad, he sang about God. He sang, "this little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine." The crowd gently parted for him has he walked and sang through about five encouraging verses, humbly uplifting every rat in the race, awaiting their next stop, and their next "big meeting." I got out all the change I had and dumped it into his cap (as did many, many others) and thanked God for reminding me of my next step. Just let it shine buddy. It’s that simple. All the other stuff, jobs and so forth, are simply the kind of lamps God decides to give you.