tangled neurons, pressed, not crushed, rejoicing

Million tabs disease, anyone? 

Work to do, 

new social movements and social engagement, 

Instagram, Facebook photos, political lunacy and campaigning, 

world news, refugee crises, supporting ministry, South America, India, Syria, Somalia, family and friends spread ‘round the world, 

visit, drive, run, eat, blame, guilt, refresh, sleep, jam, 

flipping file folders, mentally, lost and found, dishes, espresso, clean, sip, 

sunshine through the blinds, 

rhythm, 

seek and find. 

Slow down. Listen. Here we are. 

Wherever we might like to be or wish we would have already done. 

I seriously doubt even the yogis are all one hundred percent present and content in each moment. 

Yet 

here we are. 

     There are the two extremes, always and forever, and the middle is not necessarily the best. In the case of busyness, perhaps, and there is despise from both ends, the hyper-productive critiquing the laziness and lackadaisicality of those who are judging the people-turned-machines. Gods of self abound. 

   That’s part of why those who really follow Jesus stand out, distinct, like the color splash in a black-and-white photo even as they slide into the background, pure pictures of humility and consistent faithfulness. Trust is a difficult thing, and God asks us to demonstrate and walk that faith when we CANNOT see. I think we are often infatuated with this idea as it seems the theme for the greats of old, for the Biblical heroes or missionary legends, but it is actually a Christian’s reality through the mundane and the supremely difficult. 

   Those who have been a part of the persecuted church know that this means pain, torture, and suffering replete with the most intimate joy and love that overflows with an inexplicable peace of comfort and contentment. Not unique to the persecuted church, but perhaps better understood, walking through a valley or a desert is not so uncommon as we would make it out to be. For many people, take the Israelites, for example, that was life. All of it. And now? Bedouins, refugees, house churches, tundra or slum-dwellers. We interpret the Bible as though it were written for and to our specific, plush, American situation we over-hype annoyances of high prices or long lines as anguish-able suffering, which does not leave room for real grief, hurting, and healing. We become numb to such things! 

I don’t mean to be terribly down on American society--my heritage includes an overly comfortable, privileged life, and I recognize that world-over, including the United States, there is an over-abundance of difficulty and struggle. I think I would just rather we own up to that and start moving with the hope of the gospel rather than living for a wish-dream of our imagined or superficial ideals. 

   Daniel has been a stand-out story to me for these past few days and weeks, impressed by his and his friends’ high-standards and deep commitment to obedience--a high view of a sovereign and saving God. Incredible wisdom from a God who reveals mysteries, it is a story brimming with seemingly insurmountable obstacles and moments of destitution. I’m ever-more convinced that sharing in suffering is the way to share in joy--identifying with Christ in his death that we might be raised to life with him--for the now and the forever. 

   Now, this will sound entirely crass and terrible to one who does not know this intimacy with Christ. It will sound masochistic and insensitive. However, this does not imply an aloof, condescending superiority to scatter confetti of well-wishing and platitudes on the suffering that they must be jumping for joy. Instead, it means that I will crawl into the trenches and do battle on my knees with these fellow soldiers and help them carry their burdens, rejoicing in and holding out hope that the Victor is Victorious already and will continue to be so in his children’s lives. 

   It means that we look for and relish and extend rest and peace and happiness in the midst of deep exhaustion and what may otherwise look like hopeless situations. It means we can say that things are difficult and there is not a clear path forward or up the mountain, and that others can help us along and carry the pack for a time. 

The Lord is my Shepherd

I shall not want

He makes me lie down in green pastures

He leads me beside quiet waters

he restores my soul

He leads me on paths of righteousness

For His Name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of Death

I will fear no evil 

for you are with  me

your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies

you anoint my head with oil

my cup overflows

Surely goodness and mercy will follow me

all the days of my life

and I will dwell 

in the house of the Lord

FoReVeR