Chicken buses piled high trundle up the mountain pass

Worship the LORD in the beauty of holiness; let the whole earth tremble before him. Psalm 96:9

One aspect of holiness is that of set apartness. With no entanglements. Without a divided heart.

Jesus taught us, saying: ‘No one who prefers father or mother to me is worthy of me. No one who prefers son or daughter to me is worthy of me. Anyone who does not take his cross and follow in my footsteps is not worthy of me. Anyone who finds his life will lose it; anyone who loses his life for my sake will find it. Matthew 10:37–39

It is kind of eerie that just this moment, as I was considering the whisper of Quetzaltenango, well, protesting the whisper with images of momma and Heather and Everette and maybe even Andrea that this would be my lectio divina verse. And as I searched Facebook for glimpses of those blond curls, I noticed a story in my little Camino blog that I sometimes read about a Jewish pagan with dreadlocks who had happened into a mass along the road. Near the end of mass the nuns announced they made a token for the pilgrims to be passed out at the blessing. The main priest invited each of us and laid hands on out foreheads and gave a blessing. As I moved to the right the nuns gave me the handmade gift. It was a paper Star of David. What a Mitzvah.

How unsearchable His judgments, and His paths beyond tracing out.

And Xela is a mixture of roses twisted around unfinished cement block walls. There is some pounding eurotechno racket in the background just as the cloudy skies are starting to brighten with the early dawn. The brightly wrapped Mayans make me feel positively Entish wandering the streets under the smoking volcanoes. Motorcycles roar down the ever so narrow cobbled stones.

Is this a continuation of that path? As I scan over the many voices who have spoken to me this month, there is a pattern, a pattern language, forming under the speckled swaying light.

And I opened up Letters to Malcolm where the folded up paper marked my spot: Intercourse between God and man occurs at particular moments for the man, but not for God. If there is–as the very concept of prayer presupposes–an adaption between the free actions of men in prayer and the course of events, this adaption is from the beginning inherent in the great single creative act.

Glory in His holy Name; let the hearts of those who seek the LORD rejoice. Psalm 105:3