The Shoulder of God
The morning lifts it’s bright onto God’s shoulder and on the way up beams yellow streams through my window. Mascara kissed lashes unstick themselves and I am nudged up and out from under the warm cotton. The first of fall crisp sweeps through this place. The ticking clock tocks in a circle around my ever-changing heart. The next 24 hours of me.
The tooth-brush brushes and the spit spits into the sink and I look up into the mirror of me wiping the water and the stress away. There has been stress. And I say, you need some grace to do this day and a periodontist for the bloody gums.
I wonder what the day will bring? What sorrow? What challenge? What hope? There is always hope. If there were no hope there would be no light and we would all shimmy away and die out dark. Pluck the cross right out from the holy ground.
The coffee perks in the kitchen.
Stay alert, I say to myself. Alert to attend to the call, the mission. Alert to follow in the steps stomped out for these busted up boots to walk in.
Stay open. Eyes wide looking for the empty, the lost, the lonely, the broken, the prideful, yes, they are the ‘know-it-alls’ the skeptics, the deceived.
Stay armed. Don’t forget the breastplate and the shiny shield and the helmet for a hat and the double-edged sword that pokes truth smack in the center of the lie.
People can be mean, those unbelievers, and they will pour salt in your wounds all the day long and this will make them feel good about themselves puffing up their chests at you. But remember, ‘You are the salt of the earth…You are the light of the world.’ (Mat 5:13-14) I think how wounded we all are and how in need of healing we all are. How we need the pulling out of the roots rotten in us and the pouring in of the holy where the hurt runs deep.
We all need the rescue, the rain, the resurrect.
I push the lever down for the toast and wait for the pop up. I reach for the peanut butter. My star charm loose on my wrist falls off.
I flash back to the boy at the grocery store yesterday. My eyes open when I saw him wearing a T-shirt with a pentagram on the back, an upside down star. I walked slowly passed him reaching for the butter and the eggs and I know what I have to do. I turn back around and have a cart to cart with him.
“What does that word on the front of your T-shirt mean?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I have tried looking it up everywhere and I can’t find what it means.”
“Do you know what the upside down star means on the back?”
“No. I just got it at a garage sale.”
“It is a symbol of evil. It is satanic.” At this point he wants to continue the conversation.
“Oh, I didn’t know!” he said in shock.
I took his hand and I looked into his eyes and with conviction I said, “You do not belong to Satan. You belong to God. To Jesus. Take that T-shirt off and don’t ever wear it again. Burn it. Throw it away.”
He chuckled lightly agreeing as he strolled off on his way down the meat aisle. That boy couldn’t get home fast enough.
I grab a knife for the peanut butter.
God, You are on Your way. I know. And when I look out my kitchen window, as if over Your shoulder, I see a strange glare, a veil amidst the trees, the forest, the pavement even. I wonder does anyone else see what I see? The evil? Is everyone oblivious to what is going on out there like the boy who was oblivious to the symbol of Satan on his back. Yes, evil is here. I feel it in my spirit and it is working its way into our backyards like never before.
I want to climb on every roof top and shout, “Open your eyes! I want to lay my belly down on the shingled edge and hang my lamp bright against their windows. And I want to shake the sleeping houses up from their slumber. I want to reach them but they don’t want to be reached. I want to turn the latch open but their doors are locked tight.
Finally, the pop up. And the coffee perks into my cup full of morning swallowing warm down my throat distracting the chill.
I ask God to fill me with Him. To the brim with Him. Like the coffee that I drink into me. Overflow me with You I ask. Pour Your life into all my body wide. Into the hurt places, the lonely places, the scared places, the teary places, the screaming places. Push and pull the stubborn out. Open my spirit big and bold and tickle my ear with unsearchable things I do not know. Give me the wisdom you promise generously to those who ask for it. Teach me more about Your unfailing love and kindness so I can teach others who have no heavenly clue who You are and the whole glory plan You have to redeem a brood like us.
Scoot me along. Move me through the demands of the world and the bills and the debt that I can’t seem to crawl out from under. But You can. Yes, You can and even Dave Ramsey.
I throw the breakfast dish in the sink the crumbs scatter soft. The coffee cup spills cold down the drain. Crumbled napkin on the counter. Boots on and keys gripped. I turn the latch of my front door leading out to the gray. On tippy-toes I hop up and I ride on the shoulder of God. Grace me, I say. Grace me today up here holding fierce to the thorns of You.