Saying it since 2001 2009-11-14 21:57:00
November 14, 2009 in Blogs by Lore Ferguson
We are buried beneath fleece blankets and our day, piles of warmth and war. She asks if I'm going to write and I say no. You never write anymore, she says and I protest. Never is a more definite term than how little I write. It's hard to write, I say to her, when the things I'm thinking about are so current, so raw. It's easy to tell the story of my life, it's not my story after all, it doesn't belong to me. It's more difficult, even impossible, to write the story of others lives.
This season is an others season. I feel like every war, every tear, and every worn down sigh is born of a battle not my own. This is not my war, I am not built for this, I remind myself. My job is not the Redeemer, I merely point to Heaven and pray He comes through and quick.
It's more difficult to point to heaven, though, when the roadsigns around point everywhere but. I confuse even myself.
I say to him tonight that I confuse my rights and lefts, but I still somehow have a good sense of direction. I don't know which way I'm heading, but I know I'm heading there. And aren't we all? Thomas, my favorite disciple, said "We don't know where You're going, how will we know the way?" And Jesus, ever the consummate quip, answers that He IS the way. He is looking straight at His Father for the next step and they are checking for roadmaps in the folds of his robes. Isn't that just like us?
We are convinced that there must be some other way to make all things work together for good. Some other savior, some dues ex machina, a surprise ending, a troubadour with a song and a trick, a chart even, a list. And when we find that the answer is Jesus, just Jesus, well, that makes things a little disappointing, a little anticlimactic. There is nothing to check off at the end of a day when your to-do list is Living and Active.
And so, like Isaiah wrote, we trust that we heard the voice behind us saying, "This, this is the way. Walk in this way. Whether you go to the right or the left." Because Heaven is a destination, but it's also written on our hearts already. We've heard the voice behind us and we stand at every crossroad trusting He knows His rights and lefts better than we ever will.
This season is an others season. I feel like every war, every tear, and every worn down sigh is born of a battle not my own. This is not my war, I am not built for this, I remind myself. My job is not the Redeemer, I merely point to Heaven and pray He comes through and quick.
It's more difficult to point to heaven, though, when the roadsigns around point everywhere but. I confuse even myself.
I say to him tonight that I confuse my rights and lefts, but I still somehow have a good sense of direction. I don't know which way I'm heading, but I know I'm heading there. And aren't we all? Thomas, my favorite disciple, said "We don't know where You're going, how will we know the way?" And Jesus, ever the consummate quip, answers that He IS the way. He is looking straight at His Father for the next step and they are checking for roadmaps in the folds of his robes. Isn't that just like us?
We are convinced that there must be some other way to make all things work together for good. Some other savior, some dues ex machina, a surprise ending, a troubadour with a song and a trick, a chart even, a list. And when we find that the answer is Jesus, just Jesus, well, that makes things a little disappointing, a little anticlimactic. There is nothing to check off at the end of a day when your to-do list is Living and Active.
And so, like Isaiah wrote, we trust that we heard the voice behind us saying, "This, this is the way. Walk in this way. Whether you go to the right or the left." Because Heaven is a destination, but it's also written on our hearts already. We've heard the voice behind us and we stand at every crossroad trusting He knows His rights and lefts better than we ever will.
