Monday, April 7, 2014

Well Done Faithful S---

It was a hard weekend.
My colleague's (who happens to be more than a colleague to me... more of  a saint, an example, an inspiration, a tangible evidence of Christ and much more...) son  is now worshipping the Lord face to face (surely, as sure as my existence) at the mere age of twenty. 
The family. Pure gold. Every single member of this family is shining as pure gold, of a quality far better than gold itself. I can testify of the intensity of the fire that refined them day after day after day! A painful reality. And yet! Habakkuk! They beat you at the realization. They beat you at the yet*. They sing with you O David. They sing along every psalm of praise in the midst of calamity, they sing along every verse of salvation out of the very valley of death. They join you, Paul and Silas. In the prison of agony they raise their voices in worship and praise... and let the world hear of the martyrs who decided to live for Christ when there were little or no reason left to live... A poignant beauty.
Job... He shamed you. He bore his cross way better than you did.
And I stood there and wondered. And his life did not seem to have stopped. It did not. He breathed hope into my heart. A love for the Lord of life translated into a love of living for Him...And I repent. 
Precious indeed is in the eyes of the Lord the death of his saints. He left gloriously to join the congregation of all those who preceded him, following the steps of the Lover of mankind who did not spare His life for our very own sake... and he gave his life too, in imitation. And I decide. I decide to have the courage to live every single day with heaven on my mind. And I implored him to help me, to remind me. 
It was intense. It is always the case at births. When deep pain melts with lucid beauty. When our hearts overflow. When we know the truth and we know its wound and we know its fruit. When we know the bitterness of the cup and we know the splendour of the resurrection and we drink it. He drank it and ran his race and won the crown. And I persevere. For his sake... For my sake! 
(There is so much more I want to say but I believe only a sip is needed to know the good wine...)


*Habakkuk 3:17-18

 Though the fig tree does not bud
and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
and no cattle in the stalls,

yet I will rejoice in the Lord,

I will be joyful in God my Saviour.

4 comments:

  1. Waaaaw !! It's an amazing perspective.

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  2. This is one holy prose and a sip of very fine literary wine indeed

    ReplyDelete