Saturday, December 08, 2007

Go ahead, please find me.

So, I determined how fast the elliptical exercise machine can go before it gets totally untracked. That's kind of fast. My legs were burning. And that was fun.

There is a mouse in one of the copiers, and I saw it, and I need to figure out how to get it out and kill it.

I had some conversations yesterday that I never would have expected to have had a couple months ago. It's encouraging, strange, and good all at the same time. Our community here means that things can just be... different. I don't know how else to explain it. But things have happened here recently that make me see that some of the reasons I was sent here are not the reasons I was looking for or expecting.

I wrote this over a year ago, I found it tonight, and felt like reposting it. It fits, somehow.


There was a pace in the steps that we took to reach the place that we are at now. The pace was at once both cold and refreshing, like a breath of wind whispering through the desolate countryside in December. And we reveled in the pace, its touch caressing us like a familiar hand on our shoulder. The pace was blue, like a lonely man with a guitar, sitting on a split-rail fence separating a cotton field from a dusty road. His voice sounded like a thousand years of concerns, brushing over us to wave away the melancholia lapping at our ankles.

And why did the pace take these forms?

It gave us a wide berth for feelings of unsteadiness that we didn't even see fit to comment on. Once we found ourselves in the park, it seemed that the natural thing was to walk along the shore, quietly. And even though we knew that the silence wouldn't last, it didn't seem right to intrude upon it. So we kept up the same pace, our feet sinking lightly into the sand. The sun bright and friendly, the water cool. Still, we knew not to speak. Be it appearances or just the fact that we didn't know where we were going, we took to the high road.

It was then that I began to ask the questions. "I spent so much time in vanity. Can You still show me the way?" "Did I loose you, or when did You leave?" "Was it ever meant to be?" "Am I really supposed to be on this path?"

The low road. The shadow. Everything around began crumbling when I tried to fix it myself. The searing heat came closer.

He asked me, "What did you expect? They have been there across the decades. They know you far better than you know yourself. You could avoid them for a time, but pretty soon, you would become their prey." His voice held the sadness of seeing the multitudes of His children falling away. "I will help you. I will be there myself, I will send you a Helper, I will give you companions along the way who you are to help just as they help you."

The pace changed only a little during this time. It became red like dust strewn across a planet by careless winds. It went along with the voices, wiping away our tears with velvet wings. I had not the words to respond to what He was saying.

Again, He spoke. "What did you expect? We made this for you. We gave you the choice. You have made it it. You were bought and freed. You never need to lean on anyone else again."

So the pace continues as we head back home. As He took me along, I saw and felt the others that came alongside of us. Some of them He sought out, others He brought to us. Some stayed with us forever, some came and went as He knew best.

The pace is green, fresh and new like a spring dawn. Comforting, a cool stream on a summer's day. Quiet, a familiar voice whispering at night.

It brought me here. Not to destroy me as I toiled up the hill, cadence unchanging. Rather to strengthen as I kept the pace.


I also wrote this last year, and it has no point at all.


So, there was this elephant down on Third Street yesterday, while I was walking from the parking garage to the parking lot. The elephant asked me, "Sir, do you happen to know where around here could do a facelift for me?" I thought about telling him to try baggage claim, but it never pays to be a smart aleck around an elephant. I thought about it for a second, and then told him about Mad Harry's Pre-Hensile Massage Service, which was run by an alligator over on Sixth. The elephant thanked me, and offered me his card. The card read, "John Clark, African Ivory Importer." I thought this a rather ironic job for an elephant to have, and said so. He laughed at me (a rather trumpeting sound), and said, "No, I don't deal in that kind of metals. I favor the more exotic kinds."


I have to talk at focus meeting Monday morning, and the thing I have been impressed with speaking on is rain and the picture painted with it in the book, the metaphor of renewal. So next time you see the rain, think of Isa55:10-eleven or After Daniel 6:3.

I can cry out of sorrow and joy, every drop of rain turns to crystal in the sun. I'm in Your thoughts, because I feel sunshine in the rain. I'm not forgotten.

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