COSMIC SANTA: PART ONE "HAS ANYONE SEEN MY MAGIC LAMP?"

Cosmic Santa: The Quest for the Magic Lamp

In a world where wishes often mask themselves as prayers, there's a narrative that's quietly unfolded within the realms of faith, nudging the boundaries of what we dare to ask from the heavens. It's a tale, not just of desires and dreams, but of a deeper quest, one that perhaps, we've all embarked on at some point in our journey. The story begins with a lamp—a magic lamp, if you will—lost amidst the clutter of our wishes, our wants, and our whims.

 

 Imagine, if you can, a cosmic Santa, not clad in red nor riding a sleigh but bearing the grandeur of the divine, tasked with a list not of toys, but of human desires. This cosmic figure isn't bound by the constraints of time or space but by the very essence of our hearts' cries. "Has anyone seen my magic lamp?" becomes more than a question; it's a reflection, a mirror held up to the soul of Christendom, revealing a tapestry woven with threads of divine wish-granting and human longing.

 

This cosmic narrative unfolds in a backdrop where tears and prayers intermingle, where "I surrender all" is often whispered more in the hope of divine reciprocation than in the true spirit of surrender. It's a realm where scriptures are twisted into wish-granting incantations, where John 14:14 and Matthew 7:7 become not so much promises of divine presence but tickets to the grand cosmic lottery.

 

But what of the lamp, you ask? The magic lamp is more than a mere object; it's a symbol, a metaphor for the divine power we seek to harness for our ends. It's as if the divine has been reduced to a genie, bound to grant our every wish, our every whim, with a nod and a magical wave. And yet, amidst this cosmic bargain, the essence of true faith, of true surrender, becomes obscured, lost in translation from the divine to the human.

 

The narrative takes a turn with the character of Guido, from the musical Nine, who embodies the human paradox of wanting it all, of being everywhere and everything at once. Replace the universe with the divine, and you find a character not unlike many within the folds of Christendom, seeking not just blessings but a divine endorsement for every earthly desire.

 

 

Yet, as the story unfolds, it confronts us with the harsh light of scriptures that challenge this cosmic transaction. James 4, James 5, Proverbs 23, 1 Timothy 6, and Matthew 6 emerge not as mere texts but as divine stop signs, cautioning against the perils of a faith rooted in greed and selfish desires.

 

As we delve deeper, the narrative doesn't just question the legitimacy of this cosmic Santa mentality but also the very essence of our relationship with the divine. It's a tale of contrasts, of the thief who comes to steal, kill, and destroy, and the Shepherd who promises life in its fullest. The story challenges us to examine the place of wealth and possessions in our lives, to question whether our blessings have become our idols, whether our divine genie has replaced the God who calls us to a life of faith, of trust, and of surrender.

 

In this cosmic tale, we're invited not just to find the magic lamp but to understand its true nature. It's a journey from seeing God as a cosmic Santa, a divine genie, to embracing the fullness of a relationship grounded in faith, trust, and surrender. It's a story that doesn't end with wishes granted but with hearts transformed, with lives lived in the fullness of divine love and purpose.

 

So, as we turn the pages of this cosmic narrative, let us ask ourselves, "Has anyone seen my magic lamp?" Not in a quest for wishes granted, but in a search for a deeper, more authentic faith, one that seeks not just the gifts but the Giver, not just the blessings but the Blesser. For in this quest, we may just find that the true magic lies not in the lamp, but in the light it reflects—the light of a love that transcends our deepest desires, our wildest dreams, and our most fervent prayers.