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]