The Numinous

Word English Dictionary
Numinous [noo-muh-nuh, nus]

-adj
1. Denoting, being, or relating to a numen; divine

2. Arousing spiritual or religous emotions

3. Mysterious or awe-inspiring

I was introduced to the word numinous by C.S. Lewis in his book Mere Christianity.

"Suppose you were told that there was a tiger in the next room: you would know that you were in danger and would probably feel fear. But if you were told "There is a ghost in the next room," and believed it, you would feel, indeed, what is often called fear, but of a different kind. It would not be based on the knowledge of danger, for no one is primarily afraid of what a ghost may do to him, but of the mere fact that it is a ghost. It is "uncanny" rather than dangerous, and the special kind of fear it excites may be called Dread. With the Uncanny one has reached the fringes of the Numinous. Now suppose that you were told simply "There is a might spirit in the room" and believed it. Your feelings would then be even less like the mere fear of danger: but the disturbance would be profound. You would feel wonder and a certain shrinking–described as awe, and the object which excites it is the Numinous." -CS Lewis

Its been several years since I was first introduced to that word, but it has greatly affected the way I see God. His character is my great exploration. As I grow to understand him, I grow to see the ways in which I am in his image. Its like great parasites are falling off my body, and what is revealed is my true form. The shapes and curves were always there, but now they are in premium definition. Desires and portions of me that never made since, make since when I look at God. Realize that all sin, all pain, is a deviation of our true form. So all actions, twisted or not, originate from our true form.

For example, I love to take risks, be spontaneous, but I thought since God made the plan that he was never spontaneous. Just a chess player playing both sides. But as I learned to love God as my father, I realized a good father isn't hands off and robotic. A father pursues after his son, and excites his son. Abba let us have free will. That is a huge risk. Abba will wait till your on the edge and then come through, just to show you he can. Just so you can sit and understand that he is God. I inherit my spontaneity (not my irresponsibility), from my father.

But my darkness. I have darkness. I weep for the world. I burn with anger when I look at society. I want to separate from it all, and mask myself with oblivion. I want to crawl in some hole and live alone. Where it is quiet. Where it is dark. I love the dark. I love how it consumes me and seems endless. The black curves hold me, and break into me. All my secrets are spilled forth from my heart. All my feelings present themselves before me. There is no one to stop them from coming. I am dark. I can be true. I can hate your guts and you will never know. I can fear myself and no one will look at me strange. They all think I'm sick because I love the darkness. I think to myself "All this brightness is beautiful, but I want to be where it is dark," and I wonder, "Am I sick?"

God seems to greatly contrast the world. I look at society, I look at my church and am shocked. Everyone is telling us the answer is to open our eyes, and then we can see the bright shiny future. If we would just recognize the importance of school and our careers we would be able to have the things we need. God surely does not work that way. I asked a kid today what he found his self worth in, he said Grades, Baseball and faith. But as I asked more about his faith he shied away. How quick is he though to shove that 98 in my face! What a life! Success is in his hands. But, as I look more at him, I see that he is suffering. He suffers from purposelessness. He says he has faith, but it seems he only knows teachings. Christ had no gold. Christ had no riches. He was a vagabond. He was like Dallas and Jake. Christ was born of a women everyone thought to be a whore. I am sorry friend, but your nice clothes, and your optimistic attitude, and your 98 are worthless. They are nice, but they do not hold you up. Go find suffering and you will find you cannot measure your life by such things.


Jesus preached on something called the upside-down kingdom. A place where people were recognized on qualities that our society fearfully looks away from. Those that would willing get into the grittiness of others lives are princes and princesses. Those who cry under the weight of oppression are beloved. Not those who live happily, fighting no fight. No He listens to those who are calling to Him. Who need Him. Where is He needed?

God is himself greatly mysterious. He is light, but he comes out of the darkness. He is born in the night and dies in a storm. He is the bloodied sacrifice, the forsaken brother. And he is in total contrast to our world. He is in fact life, but we only think life can exist in the white light. He is in the disaster, the chaos, the turmoil, the oppression, the misery, the suffering, the messed-up world.

I wish to be bloodied. To die for a cause. To go black, and to weep in the night for the villainous nature of my corrupt oppressors. I do not want to live suffocating in riches and shiny toys. I want to be desperate.

I want to be desperate for you. I want everything you have to offer. I want to go where you go. I want to descend into the dark. I want to find its beauty. I want to inherit your kingdom of brokenness.

We are a church building upon the tallest mountains who do night realize there are children starving in the trenches.

I want to get in the trench.

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When Jesus was not in the trenches. He was alone.

As Reliant K says it,

Lonliness and Solitude are two things not to get confused
'Cause I spend my solitude with you

He spent time away from humanity to be with something more than humanity. Where our true hearts are excepted. Father Steven once explained to me that Christ trusted us to be who we thought ourselves to be. Around him, we can be who we know ourselves to be! We have no need to pretend. The wonder of solitude. In solitude, we stop pretending, we find the numinous.

See.. its a perspective change. My darkness, your darkness, is not without reason. They scream into our ears that our nature makes us evil, but that is simply untrue. Your nature my dear, is overwhelmingly beautiful. Just as he is. Darkness, my love, is lovely. Deep, and penetrating. True darkness does not tremble in front of God, but returns to him, for God is home. God is the peace in the darkness. The stillness, the rest. We are to reflect that very darkness, to provide stillness, to provide rest... but many of us fail to do so. But the gifts I see in you Blackbird, is darkness.

I see heart of what is numinous, in your eyes my dear.

The Blackness of Our Souls.

And submersion.

I am here. I am about. I know.

I am not here to adhere to any algorithm. I am here to transcend lukewarm gray.

I am here to administer black.

Black isn't tangible. Black goes on forever. Black is beyond your conception. Black is truth. Black, along with its twin white, are the fore-bearers of reality.

But you and your stumbling stones know only ash.

You know ash and dust, the cold and the clones. And you are ready to fall and flee from that which would fill your hollow bones.

Fear not, for the Composer and Conductor knew blood. Stories of instability and violent irritabilities were marked upon his hands. He knew well of the dance of despair upon desert sands. He knew helpless hours in which your juggernaut punctured his heart.

Be quiet you spitting fool. Your grey world is not the final answer, it is merely a place of indecision where every vaccine is radical.

Be aware world, of the blackness in their hearts. The utter mystery of the darkness in her eyes. No, it is not just the pain which you can only ignore, it is the uncomfortable reality of her soul. The very fact that it is deep as the ocean and as beautiful as Bach. She carries that numinous awe in the black of night. And you fucking know it. Be aware that you ignore her cry, and what you neglect you shall be measured by.

My mind, encouraged with a balance, heard the secret of my own soul. In a world full of erased men and blotted ambition, white walls and skittish hearts, the frankness of black seems to be to startling for them to handle.

But its that very frankness that keeps us human!

The secret of my soul burns on my lips and on my hands.

We the thirsty thirst. The child of the waterless is now a king. We the sinking sink. The one who is risen is king. You have suffered enough alone. It is time to suffer with him. It is time to suffer with me. We have a king who rejoices, but we also have a king who weeps. Let us weep, but let us never weep alone.

Black as night, and hidden from sight, he keeps me in his arms, despite the thorns that harm.

That is the secret of my soul. You may treasure it, or throw it away.

Listen to Wasted On The Youth by The Gay Blades

Swoon

I drop you.

Instead of hitting the water. You hit the concrete. You are falling for an eternity. You are falling still. Not towards the water, but towards the concrete.

I shatter when you hit the ground. You bounce off. I shatter and you bruise.
The subject of wounds and spilt blood are like a black hole that my heart can't escape from.
And I cry. And I cry out:
Oh save me from black hole.

Oh would you save us from this black hole.

We ask how to avoid the fight and they all take flight.
We the freaks, the scoundrels, the shakers, the burners-never asked for cutting to be an only quick fix.

They wont help us, because they cant stop us. They cant catch you.
And I think about you falling all night long. And hearing your fucking voice only pulls me deeper still.

Your falling and I can't move fast enough to catch you. I'm falling and everyone is watching me. Just watching waiting for the climax, waiting for me to finally shatter.

All the children claim to be loyal to the bone. But I don't hear their voices when I go home.
But I'm not surprised that the world is only made of liars.

When blood and gore is all you see, do you in fact miss reality?

When all you have are prayers and imaginary fires, are you missing reality?