Burrow: (n) a hole or tunnel
So when I saw the word “burrow,” I realized that throughout history–and especially that fateful weekend two thousand years ago in Mesopotamia–mankind has always tried to dig holes and bury things we don’t wish to pursue.
The interesting fact is that in saner moments, we may even acknowledge we might be better off if the truth we burrow away could come to light and function in our everyday lives.
It’s the process that bothers us.
It’s the loss of our lazy determination that annoys us.
We have grown accustomed to the face of blandness–and even though the consideration of adding make-up to improve our overall countenance is tempting, it seems both unnecessary and exhausting.
Jesus said, “Love your neighbor as yourself.”
Our response? “We’re halfway there.”
We love our own ass. Trying to transfuse and transfer that same energy to our respect for others appears overwrought.
So since he was unwilling to shut his damn mouth, we attempted to shut it for him.
It wasn’t good enough to merely kill him.
We also stabbed him with a spear.
We quickly stuck him in a grave.
We rolled a stone in front of it for fear that any of his dangerous organs might try to dribble out.
And then we hired guards to secure the location just in case somebody was interested in collecting the corpse of a beaten and broken man.
Thorough we were–but sometimes the angels our efficiency do mock.
They rolled the stone away and resurrected the “love your neighbor” boy.
So now we are stuck using our selfishness–but having to do so with a clump of guilt.