Blown in, brought in on the leading edge of it, a drenching, freezing ferocity revealed to be gentleness in white once we reached stillness ourselves. The memorial we were returning from seemed to be what it should have been, the acknowledgement of a powerful passing. My spirit, truck, plow and fire gear now broken and scattered. I’m caught in recalcitrant conviction, knowing You are indeed doing what must be done, have done what had to be, nothing further required from me except the opportunity, to take part, to partake in the fulfillment of the promises, which are as Good as Your Word.

There are moments of dismay, where Your resolve seems to be what it truly is, beyond any human reckoning, alien and alienating. Your ultimate intentions as threatening and as distant as Your company is loving and intimate. My utter inability and unwillingness and ignorance of Your purposes are all revealed to be what they are – the signature of complete inadequacy. Some seem to take Pride even in this. What is left for me but trembling consent – knowing even that is scarecely mine?

If I can hold the line, and post at the end what I received at the open, L-rd, let this be thy rhythm, the pace and the meter which rhyme with Your time. I’m learning that the cost of entering Your Rest is the knowledge, and a taste of Your Passion through which it was gained.

These were my words this morning – angry and tired now, as I always seem to be at the end of days, now cutting into canned verbage from the dawn. Unsure of the point, only knowing it’s time to begin, and if I keep digging, keep carving this darkness into the light, I’ll be able to grasp something of a useful truth. I know it was the Way once, or at least pointed there – if it was ever true, so it must remain.

For my subscribers, I’m not sure how you’re taking this – but there’s something of this inside outness for me that must happen, and perhaps it’s time we begin to let it shine.