It's Wednesday

It's Wednesday night.

It's my night to write to you…this blog community I have come to appreciate so deeply.

I tried. I really did.

I started a follow-up to last week's theme of shame. It actually has some potential, but it refuses to be written tonight.

I started a poem on the death of dreams. It doesn't have much potential, especially tonight.

I considered providing a summary of my day--the dying man, the raging envy, the wounded heart, the shocking news, the latest test--but really can't. Each story is too raw, too fresh or too confidential to splatter over the web.

As a pastor, I have a front row seat to the pain-filled drama of this world. As a husband and dad, I have a backstage pass or even a director's chair. And, as a man myself, I have an active role in this same drama--I find that I am one of the characters. Some days, like this one, I follow the script in disbelief. It doesn't read like I'd expect.

To change the metaphor…

Like a sneaker wave at the coast, today tried to catch me unguarded and sweep me out to sea. I'm grateful for the solid footing established through the faith that has been rebuilt this past year. The wave didn't carry me away, but my sneakers are awfully soggy and I'm chilled by the splash.
Give me a little time. I'll find a towel and regroup. I'll clean the sand out of my socks and head out again.

But for the moment, I have little to say. I process better in silence…at least the deepest things of the soul. Something "trivial" like a colonoscopy I can process in public (remember that blog?), but when the scope takes a tour of my innermost being, I must pause, wait…reflect.

When the ancient song writer, Asaph, had a day (or season) like this, he waited to express himself until he had "entered the sanctuary of God." There he gained a perspective on the trials of his life and questions of his soul. He knew that if he had spoken too early, it would have caused harm. In his words, "If I had said, 'I will speak thus,' I would have betrayed your children." (See Psalm 73)

So, with my friend from ancient times, I will wait to speak. I will seek His sanctuary. To try to understand is "oppressive" (73:16), but in time the Spirit will bring His counsel to my soul.
Meanwhile, I claim his declaration as my own, "My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever…as for me, it is good to be near God. I have made the Sovereign Lord my refuge, I will tell of all your deeds." (73:26, 28)

Watch out for those waves.
Dry out those socks.
We've got more miles to travel.

Your companion in the journey,
John