to you. And somewhere in your mind you know
that this is true. A memory of home
keeps haunting you, as if there were a place
which calls you to return although you do
not recognize the Voice, nor what it is
the Voice reminds you of. Yet still you feel
an alien here, from somewhere all unknown.
Nowhere so definite that you could say
with certainty you are an exile here:
just a persistent feeling, sometimes not
more than a tiny throb, at other times
hardly remembered, actively dismissed,
but surely to return to mind again.
No-one but knows whereof we speak. But some
try to put by their suffering in games
they play to occupy their time and keep
their sadness from them. Others will deny
that they are sad, and do not recognize
their tears at all. Still others will maintain
that what we speak of is illusion, not
to be considered more than but a dream.
Yet who in simple honesty, without
defensiveness and self deception, would
deny he understands the words we speak?
We speak today for everyone who walks
this world, for he is not at home. He goes
uncertainly about in endless search,
seeking in darkness what he cannot find;
not recognizing what it is he seeks.
A thousand homes he makes, yet none contents
his restless mind. He does not understand
he builds in vain. The home he seeks can not
be made by him. There is no substitute
for Heaven. All he ever made was hell.
Perhaps you think it is your childhood home
that you would find again. The childhood of
your body and its place of shelter are
a memory now so distorted that
you merely hold a picture of a past
which never happened. Yet there is a Child
in you Who seeks His Father's house, and knows
that He is alien here. This Childhood is
eternal, with an innocence which will
endure forever. Where this Child shall go
is holy ground. It is His holiness
that lights up Heaven, and that brings to earth
the pure reflection of the light above
wherein are earth and Heaven joined as one.
It is this Child in you your Father knows
as His Own Son. It is this Child Who knows
His Father. He desires to go home
so deeply, so unceasingly, His Voice
cries unto you to let Him rest a while.
He does not ask for more than just a few
instants of respite; just an interval
in which He can return to breathe again
the holy air that fills His Father's house.
You are His home as well. He will return.
But give Him just a little time to be
Himself, within the peace that is His home,
resting in silence and in peace and love.
This Child needs your protection. He is far
from home. He is so little that He seems
so easily shut out, His tiny Voice
so readily obscured, His calls for help
almost unheard amid the grating sounds
and harsh and rasping noises of the world.
Yet does He know that in you still abides
His sure protection. You will fail Him not.
He will go home, and you along with Him.
This Child is your defenselessness, your strength.
He trusts in you. He came because He knew
you would not fail. He whispers of His home
unceasingly to you. For He would bring
you back with Him that He Himself might stay,
and not return again where He does not
belong, and where He lives as outcast in
a world of alien thoughts. His patience has
no limits. He will wait until you hear
His gentle Voice within you, calling you
to let Him go in peace along with you
to where He is at home, and you with Him.
When you are still an instant, when the world
recedes from you, when valueless ideas
cease to have value in your restless mind,
then will you hear His Voice. So poignantly
He calls to you that you will not resist
Him longer. In that instant, He will take
you to His home, and you will stay with Him
in perfect stillness, silent and at peace,
beyond all words, untouched by fear and doubt,
sublimely certain that you are at home.
Rest with Him frequently today. For He
was willing to become a little child
that you might learn of Him how strong is he
who comes without defenses, offering
only love's messages to those who think
He is their enemy. He holds the might
of Heaven in His hand and calls them friend,
and gives His strength to them that they may see
He would be Friend to them. He asks that they
protect Him, for His home is far away,
and He will not return to it alone.
Christ is reborn as but a little Child
each time a wanderer would leave his home.
For he must learn that what he would protect
is but this Child, Who comes defenseless and
Who is protected by defenselessness.
Go home with Him from time to time today.
You are as much an alien here as He.
Take time today to lay aside your shield
which profits nothing, and lay down the spear
and sword you raise against an enemy
without existence. Christ has called you friend
and brother. He has even come to you
to ask your help in letting Him go home
completed and completely. He has come
as does a little child, who must beseech
his father for protection and for love.
He rules the universe, and yet He asks
unceasingly that you return with Him
and take illusions as your gods no more.
You have not lost your innocence. It is
for this you yearn. This is your heart's desire.
This is the Voice you hear, and this the Call
which cannot be denied. The holy Child
remains with you. His home is yours. Today
He gives you His defenselessness, and you
accept it in exchange for all the toys
of battle you have made. And now the way
is open, and the journey has an end
in sight at last. Be still a moment and
go home with Him and be at peace a while.
~ The Original Handscript Notes
*Some printings of the Original Editions have Lesson 182 as
"I call upon God's Name and on my own."
These were corrected in the next printing.
The correct wording for Lesson 182 is:
"I will be still a moment and go home."