by MW Cook
What do you call it when this
Cataclysm. That’s what you call it. A sudden, total, violent change. Cataclysm.
I’m thinking about cataclysm today. Maybe it’s the cataclysm that happened when there was no matter or time, and God said ‘Let there be,’ and there was.
Or maybe the catastrophic cataclysm when Man, the spiritual animal, turned away from the light for just an instant and was forever tainted in body, soul and mind by the shadow.
Or maybe that cataclysm where the eternal light of the world took a human form and was born into a shadow-filled world.
Or the cataclysm when that fleshly light, holder of all things that have substance, was overtaken and destroyed by darkness. Darkness, that very thing that is not a thing. The absence of substance.
Or the eucatastrophe that forever changed the spiritual face of the world, when the great light, the Christ, turned out to be far too bright and far too full of substance to be consumed by the nothingness of the shadow. When his fleshly body filled again with life and walked.
Or perhaps, just perhaps, I’m thinking about that cataclysm that occurred in my own life. That massive event that forever changed everything: “…at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord” Eph. 5:8
Or maybe I’m just thinking about my haircut.