Night

Every color must have drained out from and into my face tonight, watching.  It felt so at least.  Terror and remembrance of two mid-Septembers ago shot through my heart and gripped me, to the pinkies of my hands and toes.  They're unsure even now, five hours later.  Unsteady.  The chatter and the din of dining noises continued, how could they?

Lips formed (help) but only a scream screeched out.  911.  God, somebody, now.  WTF.  DO IT!  Utensils dropped.  Silence.   No, God.  The other restaurant patrons must have thought me wacky, I was shaking my head, a furious cautious plea.  No no no no no, I said.  They told me it was okay.  Or that it would be.  Not if it's a repeat, no. No.  A best friend on the cusp of abundant passionate adventurous life.  No.  Not her.  Take me... You can't... Please don't.

An EMT-trained Asian guy happened to be dining there.  Helped restore order and a delicate calm before the emergency responders arrived.  It's only been a short breath of air... And, recalling that year's devastation, I can't get whirled under. Too soon. Not again. Not yet. No.

Return, O my soul, to your rest;

for the LORD has dealt bountifully with you.

He restores your soul.

If you lie down, you will not be afraid;

when you lie down, your sleep will be sweet.

For you have delivered my soul from death,

my eyes from tears,

my feet from stumbling;

You gave a wide place for my steps under me,

and my feet did not slip.

Things I didn't know I didn't know

how to ride a real bike

Desert, 4.

Lent begins tomorrow.

This year I will be continuing to grapple with the deepest death I've yet to die.  Valleys so sunless and deserts so dry I've needed deliverance, not just help, where God proved that his gift was not less than salvation.  I'll be reading and praying through the book of Jeremiah, to see how God rescues his servant from difficult situations, and redeemed them, for His own glory.

even in the wilderness

—especially in the wilderness—

you shall love Him.

// frederick buechner

Run with the Horses

The terrible threat is that we might die earlier than we really do die . . . The real horror lies in just such a premature death, a death after which we go on living for many years.
There is a memorable passage concerning Jeremiah’s life when, worn down by the opposition and absorbed in self-pity, he was about to capitulate to just such a premature death. He was ready to abandon his unique calling in God and settle for being a Jerusalem statistic. At that critical moment he heard the reprimand: “If you have raced with men on foot, and they have wearied you, how will you compete with horses? If you stumble in safe country, how will you manage in the thickets by the Jordan?” (Jeremiah 12:5) 

. . .
What is it you really want, Jeremiah? Do you want to shuffle along with the crowd, or run with the horses? 

. . .
It is easier to define oneself minimally (“a featherless biped”) and live securely within that definition than to be defined maximally (“a little less than God”) and live adventurously in that reality. 

It is unlikely, I think, that Jeremiah was spontaneous or quick in his reply to God’s question. The ecstatic ideals for a new life had been splattered with the world’s cynicism. The euphoric impetus of youthful enthusiasm no longer carried him.

He weighed the options.
He counted the cost.
He tossed and turned in hesitation. 

The response when it came was not verbal but biographical. 

His life became his answer. 

“I’ll run with the horses.” 

// Eugene Peterson

The Call of Frodo

i am not made for perilous quests! cried Frodo.

i wish i had never seen the ring! 

why did it  come to me?

why was i chosen?

such questions cannot be answered, said Gandalf.

you may be sure that it was not for any merit that others do not possess;

nor for power or wisdom, at any rate.

but you have been chosen and you must

therefore use such strength and heart and wits as you have.

The Call of Jeremiah

when the people of jerusalem went into exile

now the word of the LORD came to me saying

before i formed you in the womb
i knew you and before you were born
i consecrated you i appointed you

ah sovereign LORD!

alas i do not know how to speak

i am only a youth

do not say 'i am only a youth'

for to all to whom i send you you shall go

and whatever i command you you shall speak

do not be afraid of them

for i am with you

I can put my sword down, because God has picked his up.

The temptation for Christian victims of the most horrible crimes is that their suffering seems to excuse them from repenting, and excuse them from forgiving. After all, it’s cruel and wrong to say their suffering was their fault, and how could anyone ask them to overlook what was done?

But make no mistake, these are precisely the two things that they must never stop doing, if they are ever to be free.

// Miroslav Volf  i love him

Amen.