The words were the beginning. And in them was solace. And sacrifice. In them were love. We’ve been stripped from them, like husks from ripe fresh corn. They are vapid now. We look for banners, signposts--and empty things filled with fresh, false hope as we navigate Still waters, lurking monsters, pronouncements of doom and climb aboard dream airplanes, pilotless, pathless, mindless, lifeless, hopeless.
Where are the green shutes? Where is the hand-holding, smiling walk of lovers, friends, graced by God for touching, laughing and sharing. We’ve been distanced. Social loss, social dysfunction and misfiring engines. Social destruction, distortion, disgrace, disaster.
The clouds whisper in cool breezes-waiting for the touch of God to move them along. The people are clamoring, seeking, wandering, waiting--longing. And it will come. It is coming. Slow, graceful steps among weeds, rust and loss. Spirits rise, call to us-what will those who have passed on---left behind? Will they have passed in vain? Will that flag tatter and limp into fetid breath?
No. Rise. Rise...rise. We will not be afraid and we will not ignore the need, the sick, the want. We have work to do! It is not the work of politicians, bureaucrats, lawmakers and editors-but The work of the lost, lonely and hopeless--toward bright sun, toward health, toward love, toward God. We will not be afraid and ignore. We will bless and be blessed-and we will return again to The flowing, weeping, joyful words. Words that speak comfort, grace and life-the Words of God.