from writing book entry to blog entry

As I walked home tonight, I had thought after thought after thought. Every now and then, I have moments of clarity and this was one of them. The lightning and thunder shook the ground where I walked, yet it had not yet begun to rain. The air chilled by the second, yet I felt warm. I looked up at the sky and bolt after bolt lit up the darkness that surrounded me, while the deep roar shook my soul and spoke. At one moment, I saw a brilliant, neonic, white, etch it's way jaggedly through the blackness. It did it so slowly that I can trace it in my mind. It stayed for so long that I thought time stopped. If only time had really stopped....if only i needn't be bound by past, present, and future. If only.

Pain can be so deep it can cripple us. Sorrow can be so sad it can kill us. I looked into the eyes of a young mother over the weekend, and saw what I frequently see in eyes: intense hurt. I didn't hear much of what she had to say, but I saw her saying it. Her eyes told the story for her, as they often do, and once again my heart ached and my head throbbed. Why can't it all stop, just for a short time? All of the oppression, all of the mourning, and all of the evil. This isn't how it's supposed to be. And it can be better, that I truly believe. Maybe I've become a litttle bit of an idealist without realizing it. When did I start to dream in such big proportions? Who's to blame, or who can I go out and thank? If only time had stopped when the lightning traced its path through the sky. If only.

Ecclesiastes 7:2-4 "It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of every man; the living should take this to heart. Sorrow is better than laughter, because a sad face is good for the heart. The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning."

James 4:9 "Grieve, mourn, and wail. Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom. Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up."

Psalm 34:18 " The LORD is close tot he brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."

Before I finished my walk home, it began to rain. Typical. Soaking wet, I changed my clothes, and got myself relatively warm, only to be reminded once again of all those who would endure the cold, wet, night under a bridge somewhere. Worst of all, many without feeling loved and most without hope. I thought of yesterday, ash Wednesday, and began to really process the significance of Lent. I thought of Isaiah 58, which we just read at the Bakers the other night. It tells us that our fasting should lose the chains of injustice, set the oppressed free, break the yoke, share food with the hungry, provide shelter for the poor, clothe the naked, and not turn away from your own flesh and blood. This is the meaning of fasting, a meaning so deep I read the words again and again and again and still they refuse to seep into my innermost core. Fasting is meant to do all of that? Wow. I want that, that's what what my soul ultimately yearns for. To free the oppressed and in no way be the oppressor. To do that I have to be completely humble, with no power. Or in other words, be truly poor in spirit as Jesus was.

So in the spirit of Lent, truly think of the real meaning of "fasting". Go to the house of mourning, for God is near to the brokenhearted.

The rain has stopped.