Adam Blumer

Reprinted by permission from SharperIron.org. Confessions of a Classic Performer I grew up on a farm without animals—domesticated animals, that is. Wild cats came and went like vagrants seeking shelter for a few months before setting off in search of something better. Those cats especially liked our classic circa 1900 red barn. As a boy, I remember sitting in the barn’s hayloft while dust motes danced in shafts of sunlight at my feet. Peering up at the cavernous ceiling, I imagined that I was inside a massive cathedral until the flutter of wings drew my attention to a four-paned window inset into the peak. Birds that had been trapped inside the barn fluttered against the glass panes in search of a way out. (Photo, clockwise: Adam, Kim, Laura, and Julia) In many ways, aren’t we all like those birds before we meet Christ—trapped in the “barn” of self? No, I’ve…