'Til Kingdom Come

I work at a church and a few weeks ago we were the victims of a tagger. In three places these lovely initials were sprayed on two of our parking lot lights and this retaining wall where all the water drains from our lot. The two on the cement bases for the lights came off fairly easily with a special cleaner and a lot of scrubbing. Did I mention it was over 100* the day I had to clean these. When I got to this final graffiti I sprayed and sprayed, and scrubbed and scrubbed with a steel brush. I have tried on two more occasions to get this stain off the stone bricks and if you come by the church it will still look like this. I am currently trying to team up with someone to get a sand blaster and hopefully get this removed. While I was drenched in sweat and striving to erase this mark I was reminded of a deep truth. This stain is as stubborn as my sin. My life, my heart, my soul are covered in the marring of disobedience and foolishness. Despite my greatest efforts, the sweat on ...

Snip, snip, snip. Every sign of beauty and color torn away. The growth of the past year reduced to a jagged stub. What once was a thriving life seems nothing more than the skeletal frame of abandoned promise. I have trouble discerning the pruning shears from the ax at the root of the tree. Is this the discipline of my Father? The careful, wise trimming of a loving Gardener. Often I fear that it is the punishment of a Holy Judge. One sin too many. The final test of a fruitless tree. The righteous wrath to bear down on my stubborn neck. But I stop. The slippery lies. The panicked doubts. Who am I to say that the power of Christ blood has reached it's high tide and I find myself dry on a sandy shore. His redeeming love shall come this far but no further. The audacity. His atonement is an raging tsunami that over takes the swiftest runner and the strongest grip clutching earthen security. It overcomes, it overwhelms. It drowns me in a bed of...

My church is reading through the Bible this year. At the end of a section of books we have a reflection service. Last night we had a service for the historical books of the old testament. The focus was on the life of David. Several of us in the church were asked to select people in David's life and write an account from their perspective. I chose Jonathan, the son of Saul. This is the piece that I prepared. Mephibosheth, my young lion, my son. I pray this letter finds you well in these troubled times. We are on the eve of battle and my mind is swarming with thoughts and questions that rob me of sleep. I wander our encampment here at Gilboa. My eyes search the heavens for a sense of hope or peace, yet only cold distant stars stare silently back. Mirroring them are the flickering fires of the Philistines across the valley. Burning into the night, into my heart. I wish the Lord would out stretch his hand and brush them from the hillside like dust. In my youth it was the thrill of...