In every moment I can awaken to a transformative, interpersonal-like communion with the reality wherein we and all others “live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28).
As one sort of process thinker, I can rightfully name this communion as newly interacting with uniquely all-inclusive way of newly interacting.
As one sort of eccentric Christian, I can rightfully name this as communion with the God of Jesus Christ, without forbidding other namings.
This communion is neither controlling nor controlled and thus will not protect me or those I love from incalculable degrees of suffering but will actually make me more compassionate and vulnerable.
Yet even when life’s occurrences devastate, I can, without minimizing devastation, still awaken to this transformative, interpersonal-like, endless communion, and at least begin to move on.
In fact, I awaken to this communion, somewhat, simply by writing this down, and then reading it.
And I awaken to this communion, somewhat, whenever I participate sympathetically in ancient and current forms of worshiping together. I sing songs, hear readings and reflections, recite prayers and a credo, share a meal, none of which I would have written or designed myself, but all of which I can readily see as pointing to this transformative, interpersonal-like, endless communion.
Pointing to this is the best any of us can do, and what I am writing and reading right now is simply another way of pointing that seems to suffice for the moment.