Spirit's Pavilion 6

He continued weeping with every eye turned toward him. He didn't look away. He kept weeping and the quiet kept being washed in tears.

Everyone knew it. Intrinsically it is branded into us. You don't do this. Guys don't do this. You can't do this and maintain your standing in the matrix. Death to the damned matrix. That's what cracked open as the tears dropped to the cement through his mask.

"I'm so tired. I'm so tired of trying to keep up with the game. I just show up and do this same routine over and over again week after week. I want there to be more than this."

The circle stood quietly, with respect. Many times, students are ruthless. And you and I. When they sense someone in the matrix tiers crashing and burning, it's a time to seize a move up in the matrix, regardless of the hemorrhaging of the one. "Sorry dude. Timely riddance." Of course, this is not said aloud, but it's totally known to be part of the matrix operating system. Not that moment. It was as if stiff shoulders started to drop down an inch as the matrix loosened. There was a freer breath for some. This viewing of unexpected, honest struggle was opening a pocket of freedom ever so slightly.

A high school girl walked completely across the circle towards another girl. It was the first movement since the guy's words had rippled across the pavilion. "I'm sorry", echoed in the night air. The two embraced and began to weep, quietly confessing some long standing hurt that had lingered between them.

Another was thinking, "What's going on? I thought this meeting was supposed to be over 5 minutes ago." And that was ok. We all get used to the routines of the way things normally go and can live predictably inside of them, not expecting them to ever really change and never thinking about them changing. But sometimes they do change. Sometimes they can change.

WHATEVER HE CHOOSES.

WHOMEVER HE CHOOSES.

WHENEVER HE CHOOSES.

WHYEVER HE CHOOSES.

WHEREVER HE CHOOSES.

HOWEVER HE CHOOSES.

What was happening at the Pavilion? Some stood still, not moving. Some walked out knowing that the normal ending time had been reached. And some began to move towards one another to embrace, to talk, to just stand near one another, still curious about what was going on.

The young man started speaking again. "Jesus, I want more. I want more of You. I don't even know why I'm saying this. I've never talked to You like this before. I feel like I want You. I feel desire. I feel like I want to know You. I don't really understand what's happening to me right now. I almost can't help saying this. Can You hear me? Are You the reason I'm saying this? Are You the reason I'm feeling this strange.....this strange.....hunger, this ache? That's what it feels like. It feels like an ache. Like I want something to change the way I am inside. Does that make sense to You? I feel silly, but I don't know what else to do. Something is happening to me that I can't explain. Something is different. Is this You Jesus? Are You working in me? In me? Please help me. Please help me to want more of You. My life isn't working. My routine isn't enough. There has to be more. I want there to be more."

Several of those who remained went down on their knees while He talked out loud to God. You could see several heads ever so slightly nodding "yes" as he talked. It was a nod of "Me too. Me too Jesus."

Me too.

Me too Jesus.

There's more.