M.L. Bushman


When I Went to Find God

I hung with Christians longer than I should because at least they have some moral center. Ethics is more than just a word to most of them. Honesty means something still. There are good people there. Good people trying hard to be good. They have their ways. Their ways are not my ways.




When Jesus preached the Sermon on the Mount he was a humble teacher. Humble. Pointing to the Father. You must find the Father, he said. Our Father who art in Heaven. No man comes to the Father but by me.


Jesus knew that as many as God willed to come to him, they should surely walk on by him. He’s a beacon, even now, to the Path. He knows the Way. But each soul’s Path is still their own.



The truest Path to God is whatever you work out with God and he works out with you. That’s how this “personal relationship” works. You get what you’re willing to give. Those who try to save their lives, will lose them. Those who give their lives will surely save them. Jesus said all kind of cool shit like that. He was a humble teacher.


Now, for those who think God our Father cannot possibly talk to any one of us he deems worthy, the spoken word is only one form of communication, the most common base form. The narrow Life has everything to do with reading the Signs. And Who and how to ask for help when you’re trying to help yourself.


Maybe God gave us all two ears and one mouth so we listen twice as much as we talk.




Denver, Once Upon a Time

Anyway, I go looking for God in all the right or wrong places. But it’s in me. It’s what I must do. What I was born to do. Find God. God is the only refuge worth seeking.


So I go a lot of places, meet a lot of people. For years, decades even. I’ve been to every state except Maine, Hawaii and Alaska. Mainly on my thumb. I counted forty-thousand miles I’d traveled that way at one point, but I’ve truly lost track. It was a lot.


Trippy, huh?


Jesus said if you give up all you own to seek the Father, you will find the Father. You can’t say Jesus didn’t know the Way to the Father. You don’t do the kind of world-shit stirring he did, to this day even, without having some kind of Divine Mandate to do what you do. Dying for it only made him a martyr, the most famous martyr in History. And Christianity carried his Message to every part of the world.


Our Father. Our Creator, Maker of the Math that allowed each of us to come into being.


Naturally, one late Spring day I load up this backpack with 50 pounds too much, take up my guitar, closed the door on my apartment and everything in it, and walked away. Seriously.


I gave up all I owned to see what I would see, and hear what I would hear, and learn what I must.


Actually, I did this four or five times.


At the end, I carried a small Bible, a little army backpack with a notebook and a change of clothes. That was all I truly needed. And God. My feet on his path, forever.


Faith is not for the faint of heart.


Nothing about this was easy. Nothing worth doing is ever easy. But I would easily suffer it all again to find God.


A Universe of Math like a river flows.





I am an old soul.

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