"Assurance............................"

Early Saturday morning here, daylight a wet, gray image outside my front door, a drizzly rain owning this area at the moment. Beth and I, after having dinner at Cracker Barrel, drove across the river to Cincinnati last night, finding all the traffic trying to escape the inner-city worse than the rush hour madness encountered on the Interstate. It’s been more than a decade since our last visit to University Hospital, the surrounding area having changed in many ways and my locating it once again a matter of navigating a vehicle-packed maze. A friend, however, was in a recovery unit, having survived his motorcycle accident Thursday (not wearing a helmet), but first reports not giving great promise about his future. Finding him awake, cognizant, and holding an intelligent conversation in spite of what the doctors’ expectations had given, therefore, was a pleasant surprise, something like Rhoda, I suppose, finding Peter knocking at the door while the group inside were praying for his release from prison. In truth, life is a mystery, even “in” Christ, the weather outside presently reflecting the facts: seasons come; seasons go; what we get in this is an anchor-line if we are but willing to accept it and trust it as security for our soul. I’m re-reading Brian McLaren’s “A Generous Orthodoxy”, the subject matter an attempt to unscramble the theological mess we have created in the Church, his efforts failing, as far as I’m concerned, humanity remaining humanity and religion being religion. A journey of more than four decades within this has taught me that following Him is “from faith to faith”, a walk through the fog, a stumble corrected by an occasional encounter with the hem of His garment. It’s kind of like enjoying a pleasant time of worship this past Wednesday evening with the men at the mission, His Spirit there in our midst, but me, nonetheless, in a bit of a funk driving to school on the morrow, feeling dry and void of Him, unworthy of ministry, my “everyday” not always a victory achieved. Somewhere in the middle of my mood, though, an old Andre Crouch tune came up out of my inner depths and there, alone in my old Toyota, the old man began to sing: “I thank God for the mountains, I thank Him for the valleys, for every storm He’s brought me through…” Tears ran down my face; two became one; and, while still voicing the lyrics, a thought ran through my mind: “This point, this well, this fountain”. Never mind all the questions, all the chapter and verse images we have created to contain Him, all the unknown ahead of us, around us, a history we regret and can’t explain. The connection, once established, removes all doubt. Amazing grace……