Out of my window on a cold November’s morn, two squirrels race up and down impossible angles and invisible branches, darting in a joyous pursuit of life. A bird squeaks and flits among leafless branches, seeking sustenance in the face of want. I am reminded of the twenty-third Psalm: “Yea, though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I shall fear no evil, For Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
The bare branches fill the air like lines on a page, dormant yet pregnant. Even as winter looms, the dearth of death, I know those lines will one day blossom and flower with life, filling the sky with color and harvest.
Why, o men, do we struggle with each other? Why do we limit ourselves and our relationships? Why do we seek to control, to restrict, to exclude, what God has made? The fruits of our labors mock us; war, perversion, insanity, despair, loneliness and heartache. Rejoice, humanity! Your will has been done. Are you not proud? Are you not content? Are you not joyous with the products of your decision? Why do you clamor and snarl? Wherefore the outcry? Is this not what you wanted, when you excluded the Alternative?
We sit in the smoldering ashes of proud towers and wonder how the fire began even as we play with matches.
Brother strikes against brother, children against parents, husbands against wives. Should we wonder at the misery we produce? The estrangement and the pain? The isolation? Can we be so blind that we fail to grasp the blatant truth, our left hands unaware of our right? Have our senses dulled past the point where reality is nothing more than flickering shadows in a cave?
Who will deliver us? The Hand reaches out, humble and patient; do not slap it away. For one day it shall close into a Fist. Woe.
Are your ears open? Do your eyes see? Is your mind comprehendable? Or do words sail through your ears like a clipper ship at sea? Do they rebound off your heart and mind like pebbles off a tank? Can the Whisper pierce through your din? Will you even heed a Shout?
Will I?
Shout, Lord, for Your servant is hard of hearing.
And yet…and yet…
Sun follows moon, the dark cannot hold back the dawn. In the epitome of confusion and death, a budding shoot emerges, quietly defiant in pursuing life. And a thunderclap cannot be ignored.
Will we repent? Is it too late? He will not be denied, nor deterred, nor defeated. We follow Him, or are engulfed in waves of righteousness. He will not leave us alone! Laugh amidst the tears of pain! Dance on crippled legs! Sing with every wracking cough! Smile in the face of death.
Can you do that? Who can? Who can? Who ever could? Who?
“Even so, come…”
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