Fulfill: 5

Remember that discipline I mentioned?
The main point was this:

The answer to whether I say yes or no
has nothing to do with what you would say,
has nothing to do with what others would say,
has only {and only and only} to do
with what He would say. Is saying.

I don't know what the outcome will be,
other than: I know that I obeyed.

Can He fulfill His purposes,
without my agreeing to join?
He's God; He probably could.

But do I want to meet Him someday,
having said no {but thanks for asking}?

Or do I want to throw away the invitation
of having known Him in His way?

Talk about fulfilling;
To watch Him work is all there is
And to watch Him is to join Him
To say yes; to obey.

[fulfill, verb: bring to completion or reality; achieve or realize (something desired, promised, or predicted); to succeed in doing]

Fulfill: 4

Today my students and I shed some tears;
Though Friday they will come over for pizza at lunch,
today was our official last class day.

I told them they will be my final class,
since from this position I have recently resigned.
I told them it was hard for me to make the final call,
but that what made it better is to know I am going out well,
thanks in part to them.

It's a season, fulfilled.

[And just in time too--
I'm so tired I can't even make this entry pretty,
am not even sure what I just said.
I've walked into walls and scattered things on floors all day today,
a sure enough sign that what I need is BED.
Good-night!]

[fulfill, verb: bring to completion or reality; achieve or realize (something desired, promised, or predicted); to succeed in doing]

Fulfill: 3

Speaking of darkness, it's interesting to me.

That multiple times I saw you, sitting in it.
And each time I saw Jesus too. Just nearby.
Seemingly not concerned in the least little slightest bit.

That's interesting to me.

It speaks of His sovereignty.

He always knew the outcome.
He also knew why you were there.

Just now I'm sitting in my chair on the porch,
wrapped in a blanket as the sun begins to fade.
And just now it strikes me that every question
we have about life is ultimately a question about Him.

Who do we say that He is?

I say that He is Able.
Willing.
In Control.
Purposeful.
Bold.
Present.

He has never left your side;
that's a promise
He fulfilled.

[fulfill, verb: bring to completion or reality; achieve or realize (something desired, promised, or predicted); to succeed in doing]

Fulfill: 2

Is now a good time to tell you?
Early (early) on He said:

You would walk through darkness.
That I'd walked through my own in preparation for it.
That it would get worse, before it got better.

I didn't really get it, when I heard it.
But we have seen this, fulfilled, have we not?

You walked through it, indeed.
I understood it, and I knew how to pray at each stage of it,
because I had known it too.
And in the midst of the dark (dark) days it felt so much worse,
than anything I knew how to do.

Always there was that promise embedded though
that I held (held) onto;
someday we would in fact see better.

Hold out your hand and receive it.
Better belongs to you, it is you. Fulfilled.

[fulfill, verb: bring to completion or reality; achieve or realize (something desired, promised, or predicted); to succeed in doing]

Fulfill: 1

I didn't want to dream, you know.

It was too risky. I had decided,
not to.

But His dreams are even bigger
than the best of mine ever were.

I apologize to Him, to you,
for how I've looked away.

Today I turn fully, right myself,
back. Staring straight at you,
seeing straight for you,
I dream, I claim, I pray His own Word: Fulfill.

[fulfill, verb: bring to completion or reality; achieve or realize (something desired, promised, or predicted); to succeed in doing]

Ease: 7

I love the ease of friendship,
the call because I'm locked out of the house friends,
the take the kids for the day friends,
the watch the dog while you do the laundry friends,
the lounge on the couch and ignore each other friends.

Family, really.

We talk sometimes,
of coming years.

Will you dream with me,
of what those years might be?

[ease, verb: make (something unpleasant, painful, or intense) 

less serious or severe; move carefully, gradually, or gently; 

ease, noun: absence of difficulty or effort]

Ease: 6

I see hearts before us, broken,
deceived, longing for the Truth.

I see anointing, I see calling,
I see us, healed and healing.

This week. I see my own heart,
so very hard.
So vulnerable, so afraid.
Shutting its doors.

And I have seen yours,
opening yes,
but angry, closed.

Then. A crumbling comes.
All I can see: Those hearts. Before us.

The anointing, the call, the healed. Healing.

I just see: This is not about us.

In humbled tears, it becomes easier
when I see them. Those hearts that are not us.

[ease, verb: make (something unpleasant, painful, or intense) 

less serious or severe; move carefully, gradually, or gently; 

ease, noun: absence of difficulty or effort ]

Ease: 5

No discipline is easy,
and I have had a week.
I don't know what He's doing,
but I understand the need.

~~

A CD lent me through the course of the day
led me to my piano, Beethoven to play.

Opus 109.
Studied back when I was young.
Back when eight hours a day was
typical to find me, alone in a room,
with a piano. Working.

The margins hold the indications
that there were elements difficult to do,
that in fact I didn't know how.

I remember. Struggling.
There was so much working,
so much always left to be done.
I remember how it felt,
impossible.

I remember the lonely
and the dark nights walking
and the never being seen,
unless it was on a stage.

Those were years of hard
even strange, discipline.
So distant to me now.

But I sat down last night,
and I played.

And can you tell where this is going?

I sat down last night,
and I played with ease.

The margins made of difficulty
were met with knowing free,
the reward of the work
--still living,
the growth of the years,
--now breathing.

No discipline is easy.
At the time.

~~

We have had our seasons;
I have had a week.
I don't know what He's doing,
but I understand the need.

To move us to the next frontier,
to know it free, living breath.

[ease, verb: make (something unpleasant, painful, or intense) 

less serious or severe; move carefully, gradually, or gently; 

ease, noun: absence of difficulty or effort ]

Ease: 4

Maybe I don't want to believe.

That would be easier.

I'm seeing it again, my old crazy
jumping up to bite me
the closer and closer you are
to reality.

And I'm seeing it again,
the long road of battle/
surrender
to say: Ok, Your way.

I'm holding it all
in the palms of my hands
and I don't know what to keep
and what to throw away.

And in humility,
I sit down.
I recognize my need.

I want you, whole and holy.
Let me just be clear.

But I am afraid that you will come through,
and I will do all that I can to get out;
But I am afraid that you won't come through,
and I will have believed for naught.
But I am afraid.

In faith this morning I claim belief:
that you are the call
and that the call is of the Kingdom work
and that the Kingdom work is the only way
worth the walking.

And look at me:
I believe that you will come beautifully through.
And that I will receive you, well.

But in these strangely fearful days,
to not believe it would be easier.

[ease, verb: make (something unpleasant, painful, or intense) 

less serious or severe; move carefully, gradually, or gently; 

ease, noun: absence of difficulty or effort ]

Ease: 3

Truth be told,
none of this is easy.

I'm angry, I'm weary, I'm afraid.

Truth be told,
I'm sick and tired of being always faithful,
always hopeful, always always freaking
expectant.

Of giving and giving and never never ever receiving
with this crazy conviction that I will love you,
no. matter. what.

This just feels impossible...

Why the heck am I here?

But.

All of this ranting, is me, in my flesh.

In my flesh,
I am impossible.
A monster, really,
clawing its way out of a cage,
out for blood.
Looking only for me.

He is the God of all impossible,
in Him is faith and hope and expectant joy,
unfailing always giving love.

I'm fixing my eyes, I'm fixing my eyes,
I'm trusting Him to restore my feet to solid ground.

Because I have seen it, and I know:
In Him, the impossible things become the easiest things.

[Pray it, pray it, with me, Amen.]

[ease, verb: make (something unpleasant, painful, or intense) 

less serious or severe; move carefully, gradually, or gently; 

ease, noun: absence of difficulty or effort ]

Ease: 2

You know what would make this easier?

If I would just believe.

Though He has shown me so many things
to help me say "ok",
still there is usually this lingering doubt:

Am I just insane?

But when I allow my mind to bend
along this looming path,
I have no peace, no peace at all,
until He brings me back.

Not looking at you,
not right, not left,
I know what He would say

You belong to Me, 
you know My voice;
you at some point
just must believe.

And He's right, you know;
When I believe, it's easy.

[ease, verb: make (something unpleasant, painful, or intense) 

less serious or severe; move carefully, gradually, or gently; 

ease, noun: absence of difficulty or effort ]

Ease: 1a

And then there's this:

I am always wanting the next step fast,
am always thinking ahead.
[Watch out, you will see it, I'm sure]

But I sat in the sun, and I listened to you,
and I thought:

Let's just move gently, with ease.

[ease, verb: make (something unpleasant, painful, or intense) 
less serious or severe; move carefully, gradually, or gently; 
ease, noun: absence of difficulty or effort ]

Ease: 1

The truth be told,
I have perceived so much rejection
over these swollen years,
that I am often fighting to not reject myself for you,
every time I see you.

It's gotten better, but still;
I have battled a lot of fear.

Yesterday when you called me back
[so soon, so helpfully]
my breath caught in my throat,
fearful of what you think.

But I listened to you.
And I responded to you.
And I found in myself a subtle
powerful shift.

I want this
--and I commit this--
to be easy.

Fear must leave its place.

[ease, verb: make (something unpleasant, painful, or intense) 
less serious or severe; move carefully, gradually, or gently; 
ease, noun: absence of difficulty or effort ]

Ease: Prologue

One day I saw Jesus,
standing on a mountaintop.
I was climbing up to Him,
on a craggy steep difficult,
no-path-in-sight kind of way.

He reached out with His right arm, and helped me up;
to stand with Him.

We've stood there for what feels like a very long,
very craggy,
time.

I have from the first moment known:
We were waiting, watching,
as you made your way to join us.

This morning I saw you standing there too.
Assured.
Feet on solid ground.
Strong. Sure.

Easy.

You and I have seen our fair share of war,
the training ground for battlefields our minds cannot conceive.
This mountaintop though?
It's ours. The three of us, easy, we.

[ease, verb: make (something unpleasant, painful, or intense) 
less serious or severe; move carefully, gradually, or gently; 
ease, noun: absence of difficulty or effort ]

Redeem: 37

Expectations wander through our minds,
and likely not the same.

Let's look at them closely,
find out from whence they came.

And then let's remember where they tend to go.

For example: Rejection, jumping me away,
shutting down any open thing.

But today, I rearranged the game.

When I didn't understand
why in the world you wouldn't offer to help,
I decided to leave it between you and the Lord.
And then I dove right in.
And I have to tell you:
I've never had more fun in my life.

And by the end of the day, I saw
My expectations have changed;
and so have the patterns that bred them.

And who knows what was in your mind,
but here's what I see:
You brought me free,
by doing the unexpected thing.

[redeem, verb: to free from what distresses or harms; to release from blame or debt; to regain possession or recover ownership; 

to convert, restore, atone; to save]

Redeem: 36

Undivided loyalty,
this is the call.
To walk in.
With Him.
Each other.

Otherwise,
here comes the thief in the night,
our union stolen right from our hands.

It's like we just hand it over,
to whoever raises up the eyes-turn question.

I stand up, I declare:
I will not let that be.
Look me straight inside my eye--
do you understand me?

Then hold me here,
within the circle of your arm,
at His present feet.

Claim what no one in this Kingdom come
could ever steal away:
In your loyal first to us
is loyal the ending to yourself.

You can do that.

I will stand here and proclaim it
until this cold barren earth fades to rising sun.

[redeem, verb: to free from what distresses or harms; to release from blame or debt; to regain possession or recover ownership; 

to convert, restore, atone; to save]

Redeem: 35

Maybe I should just mention it:

Top of my list as to what I want to see
is you, whole and holy.

If I get to join you in walking that out?
That's a bonus. A really really good one.

[redeem, verb: to free from what distresses or harms; to release from blame or debt; to regain possession or recover ownership; 

to convert, restore, atone; to save]

Redeem: 34

Today I sent an official email saying
what I have known for a while now needed to be said,
an email of "my life is changing and I need
to make some changes in order to be ready"

I am struggling, with this.
After all of this waiting,
who would have thought?
Not me.

Upon hitting send I had great peace, of course.
Peace comes with obedience.

But to be completely honest:
I then slammed into discouragement so hard,
I thought I might not make it.

I am struggling, with this.
And really--who would have thought?

[redeem, verb: to free from what distresses or harms; to release from blame or debt; to regain possession or recover ownership; 

to convert, restore, atone; to save]

Redeem: 33

So, I'm just reading the article you posted on facebook today.

I've decided that--despite a desperate desire to support you in everything you do--I will not "like" it.
[Wouldn't want to come on too strong or anything...]

But can I tell you here [speaking of coming on too strong...]
how much I love it?

I don't love it because I understand it.
Truth be told, my brain is tired,
I have twelve hundred other things to think about right now,
and it is a barrage of words I cannot seem to organize.

I love it because it is evidence to me that
you are walking in who God has said you are.

I have a list of "who you are,"
given to me one prayer cabin day
before I understood that God actually does things like that.
[Like, right before...]

And I'm not going to share them all here,
because a girl should always keep some mystery about her...

But here's two:

Brilliance, in quality of mind.

And,

Bringer of light.

I've been praying for the full fruition of that list,
ever since I heard it.

And that article says to me: Yep.

I love it, indeed.

[redeem, verb: to free from what distresses or harms; to release from blame or debt; to regain possession or recover ownership; 

to convert, restore, atone; to save]

Redeem: 32

In our emails of this weekend, you didn't propose!
And for a smidge, a second, [a pause for overly dramatic effect]
I thought:
That's it, I'm done, he's not going to come through.

I stopped myself though. I won't believe that anymore, for you.

Notice I say "anymore"...

It reminded me, see, of so many other times,
when you looked like quite the risk,
when I reached out and you...
[fill in the never-promising blank]

The statement of
That's it, I'm done, he's not...
is one that I know well.

And yet, here I am, aren't I?

It's because I'm a raging idealist.
It's because I know the God of More.
It's because I believe what He's said about you.
It's because He's faithful, to Himself.

And just so you know, it's also because I understand:
You are the type of man who will not come a-callin'
until you know that you know that you can.

I admire that about you.
And somewhere along the way, I said: OK.

I've seen friendships form and people move away [then back!],
I've seen acquaintances become relationships
and turn into marriages with first [then second!] babes.

I've sat and watched it all, saying "Your Way."
Because His way is worth the risk.

And so are you.

[redeem, verb: to free from what distresses or harms; to release from blame or debt; to regain possession or recover ownership; 

to convert, restore, atone; to save]

Just Because

This afternoon, I was sitting out on the porch of this cottage that I love, in the chair that I made you move for me, minding my own business. The sun was shining on me and the breeze was lilting around too, when a squirrel came over and stopped, just below me, on the pathway to the back.  He sat there for a moment as we scoped each other out, and then? He stood up on his hind legs, put his paws up to his chest, looked me straight in the face, and shook his booty, chattering away.

I can't even stand it.

(When it's lovely out, can we never go inside?)

Redeem: 31

Hey, it's time, you know?
To lay down the blame.

There are roots to the damage,
the darkness has friends;
none of this can we negate.

But I'm just looking at what we have left,
and I see more waiting beyond this place.

And the moment sitting in front of my face
is not what will so&so do to take us yonder...
It's us.

Those were our years of suffering dark,
purpose working but hard to find.
And these are our days of walking in joy,
in hope, in peace, salvation relief.

But listen to what I believe to be true:
There will be suffering again for us, not far,
and to lay the blame just will not do.
I will need you to be secure yes sure,
standing in gospel proof.

The foundation we allow let laid today
determines the Light of then.

[redeem, verb: to free from what distresses or harms; to release from blame or debt; to regain possession or recover ownership; 

to convert, restore, atone; to save]

Redeem: 30

It's funny how much I hear the idea that to be in love,
to fall in love, to agree to love is to get something, for yourself.
And if getting or ungetting you do not feel complete,
then the love itself has failed.

It's funny how once I thought this too,
though not if you had asked me.
But in these five years I have learned.
To agree to love is to agree to say:
No matter what it means for me. Unfailing. You.

And yet, today, I'm walking all up in my crazy.
And it's making me think about how it would be
really lovely if you were to see it, and to pray.

For me.

I remember a night we sat in my car
and you said this Kindgom-Purpose thing
and my unwelcome tears said back to you:
I'm wounded and afraid, and I just don't understand.

And you answered, but not to me.
It took me a moment but I realized soon enough:
you were praying about it, for me.

And there have been many days since that day
where I have wondered what you need
and what your Kingdom-Purpose is,
and I have said: Teach me. How to pray.

For you.

And it just seems to me that if I am for you
and you are for me and together we are for the Lord,
then unfailing we will find ourselves.

[redeem, verb: to free from what distresses or harms; to release from blame or debt; to regain possession or recover ownership; 

to convert, restore, atone; to save]

Redeem: 29b

And I cannot stop, you need to know:

It started when I couldn't keep you off my mind,
but it ended up that it was my heart that He was after.

He walked me straight through it.

In those moments I thought surely I was nuts,
He said to me: Your heart, healed and healthy.

Loving you from far away
in surrender, sacrifice, tears, and unknowns
has healed my heart.

Healthy is now who I am;
I am no longer damaged.

And it's because of you.

[redeem, verb: to free from what distresses or harms; to release from blame or debt; to regain possession or recover ownership; 

to convert, restore, atone; to save]

Redeem: 29a

And I just don't want to leave it there,
want to tell you too, about the surrender,
the time and time and after again,
where I laid you down, and let you go.

We hit that wall that one dark day
and I walked away, no intent to look back;
thinking you were done and over, dead to me,
I surrendered you.

But to my mind you kept returning
as darkness became your story and light became mine.
I wasn't used to thinking myself healed,
I assumed it was due to my broken deceived;
I laid you down, so, many, times.

And God kept handing you back.

[redeem, verb: to free from what distresses or harms; to release from blame or debt; to regain possession or recover ownership; 

to convert, restore, atone; to save]

Redeem: 29

Or maybe it was that very first night.

Do you remember, the table, in the corner,
and we talked and talked?

That was back when broken glass was still laid out
just beneath my skin, when demons chased me in my sleep
and kept me breathing shallow and thin.

That was when I would have said I would never not be damaged.

But I left you that night,
feeling like you had handed me back to myself.
You breathed me life. You did.

Maybe it was that very first night.

[redeem, verb: to free from what distresses or harms; to release from blame or debt; to regain possession or recover ownership; 

to convert, restore, atone; to save]

Redeem: 28a

Can I add an addendum to this?

[Of course I can; I make the rules!]

All of this reminding has got me remembering:

Do you remember the day that we moved the fish tanks?

That was the day that I knew.

[You're the only one who will do.]

[redeem, verb: to free from what distresses or harms; to release from blame or debt; to regain possession or recover ownership; 

to convert, restore, atone; to save]

Redeem: 28

I'm eating my dinner, a delicious lentil soup.

It's reminding me of that day we took down streams of wallpaper,
and you made soup that was a lot like this and I
--in a flurry of anticipation--took half your bread.
You looked at me and you laughed at me. Delightedly.

Which is reminding me of that day
we moved you into all of that wallpaper,
and I stood in your old bedroom window
and stuck my head through to call to you.
You looked at me with such surprise,
and then you laughed. At me. With delight, yes.

Which is reminding me of other types of moments, somehow; 

the moments that were harder, the difficult words
and the edges in our voices.

You looked at me and I looked right back, 

but in no way did we laugh. 

Still, didn't it feel just a bit delightful?  

I was always surprised at how safe it seemed. 

Maybe it's the delight in what it is to know another, 

in all layers, all possible ways.

So.  Let's keep layering, hey?

There's a heck of a lot more delight to be had.

[redeem, verb: to free from what distresses or harms; to release from blame or debt; to regain possession or recover ownership; 

to convert, restore, atone; to save]

Redeem: 27

Do you think of us yet, as a unit?

There were years when you did not.
I know, because I did.

It made me feel a little crazy.

That the Lord would speak so profoundly one thing,
and hold it there unbudging, and not let me go,
and then you would ignore me, walk away, push me away...

What was I to think?

I learned though; His thoughts.
Faith, power, strength.

I learned His heart for you.

When the unit becomes the thing you agree to,
it changes your heart.

Trust me; I know.

[redeem, verb: to free from what distresses or harms; to release from blame or debt; to regain possession or recover ownership; 

to convert, restore, atone; to save]

Redeem: 26

Hey.

I was just reading, all of these recent redeeming things.

And I'm thinking back, over these years.

And I'm thinking back, to Easter night.

And I'm seeing you in my mind's eye,
at every stage along this way.

And I'm just moved.

On Easter the man that I saw
--present and solid and true and here--
is the man I only saw glimpses of before.
The man I knew you to be.

It really is our Resurrection day.

And all I can do is speak His name;
simply to speak His name is praise.

[redeem, verb: to free from what distresses or harms; to release from blame or debt; to regain possession or recover ownership; 

to convert, restore, atone; to save]

Redeem: 25

What, dear man, is desire?

When you walk through the room
all tall and shoulders,
before I even know it I'm sneaking a look,
quick, before anybody sees.

But when we're sitting there
with our friends all around,
I can't even chance to glance in your direction.
My eyes can only get stuck
all woozy and goozy,
and for sure they would notice me,
drowning in beauty.

Or in other words: Gawking.

But listen--none of it is because I'm greedy;
it's because I'm taken. Captivated.
Like when I see the stars, burning clear and bright.

It's you I see.

And by the way,
I'm only telling you this
because I caught you.
[Again. I caught you again!]
And I get it.

And above all things, I want you to know:
when desire is truly
and bravely Reordered,
the purity of it is nothing to hide.

[redeem, verb: to free from what distresses or harms; to release from blame or debt; to regain possession or recover ownership; 

to convert, restore, atone; to save]

Redeem: 24

A while ago now, here is what I saw,
as I sat before the Lord:

A deep dark and beautiful sky,
with a golden moon, full and huge and hovering.
A pathway, carved into a cloud, hidden from sight, peaceful.
I climbed onto it from the left, as if over a mountain;
you climbed onto it from the right, as if over your own.
And then we walked toward each other,
slowly sure, but steady.

By the time we met in the middle,
we knew, and we were ready.

Tonight, sitting in front of you this time, I saw:
I am not yet, not quite, not ready.
And neither, I think, are you.

But:

Did you see how brave we were,
how fearless, how simple, how free?

Did you see our eyes, not backing down,
your turning and my touch?

Did you see the stars as we said good-night,
paving the way to our cars?

Did you see the deep beauty sky,
clear and dark and bathing light?

I was going to call back to you, to look,
but I was captivated...

As I drove my way toward home,
in that deep dark beauty sky
I saw a full and golden moon,
nestling itself in perfect fit
inside the mountain's path-like dip.

The path itself was nearly obsolete.

And I just wonder, did you see?

We're close. We are so close.

[redeem, verb: to free from what distresses or harms; to release from blame or debt; to regain possession or recover ownership; 

to convert, restore, atone; to save]

Redeem: 23

We passed each other yesterday, on a crowded path.
You smiled at me with shining eyes, I smiled back at you;
you said hello, I said hello too, before we were pushed away.
And can I just say?
It made me so happy [like, for the rest of the day]
to see you smile.

Later I went to Way of the Cross.
I wasn't going to go, had so many other things to do,
but I'll tell you what. That God of ours just wooed me.
He just won't ever stop.

And how could I possibly go into here,
all that He showed and said,
as I made my way along His Way?

Humility; that was a theme
[called more than once, to my knees].
Sharing with Him, the burden.
I saw the call of you and I,
laid out more clearly than ever before;
for all of those He'll bring to us,
the lonely, lost, the broken.
I saw His heart for me, His deep deep care
His lion's roar and Father's pride, just bursting.

And in those precious quiet moments
I said to Him what I have said already since,
many times actually, before:

I am afraid I'll lose You.

You see, awhile ago, I knew that you were on your way.
And I knew that when you finally arrived,
my life with Him would have to change.
I cried and I cried about this, for days,
until He held out His hand in front of my face,
asking me to dance. With Him. I thought that He was crazy.

I said, You want to dance at a time like this?

But then I said yes. And there I was, dancing with the Father.
At a wedding. As He gave the bride away.
And I understood, this was hard for Him too,
the sharing me with you,but that this was the way it was meant to be,
right and precious, and good.

Yesterday, He reminded me of this,
when I expressed fear of the change.
And then He showed me my favorite part:

He showed me who He is trusting me to.

He's not trusting me to just anybody you know;
He is trusting me to you.
Do you know? That He is trusting me with you,
because he knows that you are trustworthy, with me?

I saw you, standing there, so strong and tall,
my heart so tenderly in your hands.
I saw your wisdom, your knowledge, your peace,
saw your ability to help me, to guide and protect me
in my relationship with Him.

And can I just say,
just tell you what?
Between the two of you,
with all of your smiles and your wooing
and your crazy tender protective covering,
I'm just the happiest girl around.

Safe and free, to dance.

[redeem, verb: to free from what distresses or harms; to release from blame or debt; to regain possession or recover ownership; 

to convert, restore, atone; to save]

Redeem: 22

Today is Good Friday.

Every year it strikes me that I don't understand the fullness of this day.

But this year, I'm having another thought, a memory. 

I am remembering the Good Friday of two years ago

(or maybe was it three?). 

On that day, I drove past the church building, where I would return later to walk through the Way of the Cross. Randomly playing in my car was a song that I knew to be meaningful to you, a song about remembering the rescue of the Lord, even when you cannot see.

I was praying for you, with tears.

I didn't understand it then (Do I fully understand it now?) how it was that I cared so much, given that you had disappeared from my life. You had disappeared from a lot actually, and I cared so much that I frequently prayed for you, almost non-stop, with tears or without, in the day and even in the middle of the night.

My praying was always with the weight of: 

When are You going to do something?!

I didn't realize then that the praying--with and without tears, day and night and without my understanding--was what He was doing. All I saw was that you had disappeared, that there was darkness all around you. All I saw was that you were not alright, and I wanted to know when God was going to help.

My praying was always with the weight of:
You are the only One who can do it! So do it already.

On that day, this was my praying for you,
this urgency, this do something.

And on that day, in the middle of my words,
in the middle of my tears, He did something alright.

He spoke.

One word, PROMISE, slicing right through me with a ferocity that could only belong to Him. And in its wake, as loud and as clear as you could ask for, straight down the middle of everything, I heard Him say:

I promise you; that I will restore him to Me.

I have held this promise in my hand, for however many years its been. And in that time there has been day after day where I have held it up --straight into His face-- with fierce and bold and chronic care: 

You promised me! Don't forget.

So, today is Good Friday. And I don't fully understand, really anything, at all. But there's a promise here, for you, for us, for anyone else who wants it to be theirs.

In the cross, in the blood, in the death and the dark, is a promise we can grasp if we take it from the fierceness of His can't-forget-this hand: 

I will restore you, to Myself. The End.

[redeem, verb: to free from what distresses or harms; to release from blame or debt; to regain possession or recover ownership; 

to convert, restore, atone; to save]

Redeem: 21

Sometimes I get very afraid.

I sit over here and you are over there,
and I do not know:

Are you walking in truth?
Or are you walking in despair?

I just do not know.

Tell me, please:
Will the despair win?

Sometimes I feel like I am
constantly fighting the battle of
"the despair will win."
Sometimes I get very afraid that it will.

You know it's not real, right?
That the despair is all a trick?

Sometimes I get very afraid that
this is exactly what you do not know.

This morning I sit, right smack down here.
And I beg the Lord for truth.
For me, for you.
With tears.

I listen, I yell, I cry, I hear:

Remember Who I Am.

He leads me straight through the Psalms,
12, 18, 56.

And then He reminds me who you are,
the man of strength, integrity, truth
that we both know you to be.
And I realize: When I sit down inside this fear,
I am not trusting you to be you.

I think instead that you are weak,
and that I have to fix you, carry you,
take care of it, tell you how it is.

et cetera.

I sit over here and you are over there,
and the Lord is present too.
He's teaching me and teaching me,
preparing me for you.

So today I'll change my tune.
I won't speak fear, but hope.
I won't carry your burden,
but will lift it, with you.

And I will say what it is that I do know:

You are the well-loved son of a living and mighty King.

Be well today, be strong;
claiming what is yours, be you.

[redeem, verb: to free from what distresses or harms; to release from blame or debt; to regain possession or recover ownership; 

to convert, restore, atone; to save]

Redeem: 20

This has been a journey of stepping up,
to the place He points as next.

Each time He says:
You are here;
Now I want you to go here
[just a little farther out]
Will you go?

Each time, I could say no.

But today and every day I make a decision,
to say: Yes, I will go.
Where You lead is where You are;
Where You are is where I want to be.

And today and every day I see
His movement is the best kind.

There are days, though, when I let
other voices move me,
back, aside, away.

Today, my dear dear sir:
May no other voice move us but His.

[redeem, verb: to free from what distresses or harms; to release from blame or debt; to regain possession or recover ownership; 

to convert, restore, atone; to save]