There’s a wide empty field there. An expanse of open where the sunbeams fall in different ways through the trees.
A sound sometimes catches me, a squirrel, a bird or so soft it could be just the movement of the weeds.
Yellow pops of joy on top of tall green.
I consider this midpoint on the trail, the level place before I shift to jog and then struggle up the sudden steep place of a curving hill.
Then round the corner, oh it feels so free!
I am effortless, I swoosh past the houses. I careen.
There is no easy stride without the one that requires an inward decision to keep going.
There is no bliss over arriving finally without the questionable continuing your journey.
Today is the day between the dark death of Jesus Christ and the glorious morning a mourner discovered the empty tomb.
Today is the middle day, the day marked by all promises forgotten.
Jesus told them it would be so.
A little while, and you will see me no longer; and again a little while, and you will see me. Jesus, to the disciples. John 16:16
Yet, it was so very hard to believe.
The miracle of it all.
Much of life gets hard when we are in between. This morning I read that God keeps all of His promises.
I’m prone to worry over whether or not that could be true for me, that’s the human in me as was the human in Jesus.
In the garden he prayed, if it is possible for me to achieve what is your will for every human, the creative works of your hand, if it is possible,
Father, God maybe you have another plan.
“And he withdrew from them about a stone’s throw, and knelt down and prayed, saying, “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.”
And when he rose from prayer, he came to the disciples and found them sleeping for sorrow, and he said to them, “Why are you sleeping? Rise and pray that you may not enter into temptation.””
Luke 22:41-42, 45-46 ESV
In what ways have you suffered?
What memories have you that represent redemption, foster continued hope?
What years of depression and dismay have you survived?
Here’s an example from my Instagram on yesterday:
Why I believe in redemption. I open the mail thinking it’ll be just a copy of my diploma, instead it’s an emotional chronicle of about 10 or so years. I lost my art scholarship, came home to try Georgia Southern. Some things happened because of me and to me. In 1982, it ended, Academic Suspension. 10 years later, I began again and graduated “In Good Standing”. #thecolorsofmybible #redemptionstory #nevertoolate #beginagain
Everything is restorable.
Struggle yields hope.
What is meant to destroy, through Christ, seeking His will, pairing it with human discipline and determination, is a redeemable starting point for a story.
I’m not who I was.
Happy Easter weekend.
Continue and believe.
2 thoughts on “All Promises Forgotten”
Thank you for your constancy and creativity. I am buoyed by your artistry and authenticity each time I read your posts.
Thank you for your encouragement.