Peeking through the fingers covering my eyes

Of old hast thou laid the foundation of the earth: and the heavens are the work of Thy hands. They shall perish, but Thou shalt endure: yea, all of them shall wax old like a garment; as a vesture shalt Thou change them, and they shall be changed.  Psalm 102: 25, 26

I was just flipping through the artwork of a Brazilian photographer who had spent six years documenting human misery in refugee camps and famines and disasters of every kind.  And his heart was broken; he couldn’t go on.  In seeking healing and restoration and hope, he and his wife spent the next nine years trekking the wilderness, documenting the Genesis spots of creation, the 45% of the world that as of yet unstained by human activity, that is not yet in tatters like an old garment. It mostly seemed to be filled with penguins and friendly whales, and peace.  An echo of a fresh creation. And a foreshadowing of what is to come.

And as I spoke yesterday to two chapels of bright-eyed and only slightly squirmy children yesterday, I was once again struck by the power of the verse: For the joy set before Him, He endured the cross.  This is something that the eyewitnesses watched, but could not wrap their heads around, the deliberate turning of their beloved Rabbi towards Jerusalem and to sure death with the confidence that this was part of the Plan. He knew the end of the story, the happily ever after ending, because He wrote it.  He is the Word.  They didn’t get it, but they noticed that He did.  And their hearts burned within them.

And sometimes, when I am wading through a book that seems particularly heavy and hopeless, I cheat, and read the last page, just to find out how it all ends, to see if I should bother to wade through the angst and pain.  And this is the end of our story: For ye shall go out with joy, and be led forth with peace; the mountains and the hills shall break forth before you into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands. Isaiah 55:12

Forever and ever, Amen.