Skin Scars

But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed. Isaiah 53:5

I have a skin problem. I’ll spare the disgusting details, but to say, it’s a tissue issue I’ve had for 25 years. It only flares up occasionally, but when it does, it’s viciously aggressive. Every day and night is draining, extracting, medicating. The flares are temporary, but healing takes time. Literally weeks of daily attention to the root issues are required. There is no rushing the healing. There is only my part of constantly cleaning and applying the balm. The wound heals on its own time and terms. I tend to focus on the small areas that flare up but have found that lasting healing requires attention to all areas of suspect: the evil lies in the unseen.

What only I know is that what the public sees on the surface, is literally, the tip of an iceberg of deeper, root issues. Others may be repelled by my wounds, but I am the only one who can dress them in balm. Make up and cover up only last a few hours and do nothing for the long term. I am aware that scars will come, but scars are always better than wounds. Scars are proof of healing. I have also found that I am the only one who can attend to my own issue. No one, especially on a constant basis, can treat me. By the same token, I cannot tend to anyone else’s issues. We can have conversations, but I am the only one who takes action – or inaction – and I am the one ultimately affected and others at the view

There is a popular saying in the last year: “it’s not a skin issue; it’s a sin issue” This is obviously in reference to racism as a choice is acting on sinful mindsets, not the pigment itself. Yet, for my life and living lesson, there is much more to defining the problem. One thing every living human has is skin. Maybe varied by birth pigmentation, but united in reality: epidermis is inevitable.

I have a sin problem. I’ll spare the disgusting details, but to say, it’s an issue I’ve had for over 45 years. It flares up in noticeable, behavioral extremes - but when it does, it’s viciously aggressive. Every day and night is draining, extracting, and medicating the heart. The behavioral flares are temporary, but healing takes time. Literally days, weeks and years of daily attention to the root issues are required. There is no rushing the healing. There is only my part of constantly cleaning and applying the balm of the Word of God. The wound heals on its own time and terms. I tend to focus on the small areas that flare up but have found that lasting healing requires attention to all areas of suspect: the evil lies in the unseen.

What only I know is that what the public sees on the surface, is literally, the tip of an iceberg of deeper, root issues. Others may be repelled by my wounds, but I am the only one who can dress them in balm. Make up and cover up only last a few hours and do nothing for the long term. I am aware that scars will come, but scars are always better than wounds. Scars are proof of healing. I have also found that I am the only one who can attend to my own issue. No one, especially on a constant basis, can treat me. By the same token, I cannot tend to anyone else’s issues. We can have conversations, but I am the only one who takes action – or inaction – and I am the one ultimately affected at the root and others at the view.

One thing every living human has is sin. Maybe varied by life in manifestation, but united in reality: separation is inevitable. One thing every human being also has is a choice to apply balm or fester. Healing takes time, but only when mediation is applied. Mediation by the Healer of the heart. The root treatment of the wound lives out in the fruit distribution to the world. Eradication is inevitable.

Unseen

 

"So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." 2 Corinthians 4:18

From sleep to wake, the subconscious, uncontrollable phenomenon of dreams is crazy. As the insane, subsection of each of our minds play out the most bizarre stories to our own private showing – the shift from sleep to wake moves our daily awareness from unreal to reality. For many, the dream is the haven and the reality is the nightmare. There are millions of writings on dreams because, whether we recall them or not, every human dreams. Whether reliving the past or projecting the future – or mostly, having absolutely nothing to do with either – one thing is also true and common to all: dreams are not real. Dreaming is real, dreams are not. They are an illusion. I can’t count how many times I’ve woken up and said, “thank God that was only a dream.”

So, my wondering is not of the dreams themselves (which thousands of books have explored)– as they are more varied than human fingerprints – my wondering is what is real v. unreal; senses v. stimulation; truth v. deception. From movies to mindbenders, we all are fascinated by the constant crossing of real and unreal/seen and unseen. We simply believe: what I see is the only real and unseen is not real. As the saying goes, "seeing is believing." Yet for the reality of faith, believing is the seeing. 

When I rise from dreaming each and every day, I rise to the crossing web of seen and unseen: the floor is seen, but the oxygen is not – both are my reality. Then onward to thousands of other crossings between seen and unseen that make up the reality of my life. At the exact same moment always is the underlying, life sustaining truth: what I see is temporary and what I do not see is eternal. That almost sounds like transporting into the Matrix. But it’s actually reality: all seen (or felt or any other five sense experienced) is never forever. As much as we want this to be of the awesome experiences, and of course, not of the awful moments. Good and bad, mountain and valleys, satisfied and starving, beautiful and horrible – all temporary. I tell my life that all I know is only what I can see (or sense). 

Except for the more real, more comforting, more sustaining truth: what I can’t see is eternal...and experienced which elevates (not negates) everything. More than "forever" which is held by time – the unseen is eternally fused to me because the me I can't see of heart and spirit is made for eternity. Some unseen is beautiful; some unseen is atrocious. But that’s not my control or concern, just like dreams I can’t control. My concern is where I focus – by temporary grasping or eternal holding.

Focusing on the unseen doesn’t say the seen/sensed isn’t real. The pain is real, the healing is real. The betrayal is real, the love is real. The rejection is real, the relationship is real. The fear is real, the joy is real. The losses are real, the abundance is real. The addiction is real, the recovery is real. But crossing over each of those realities is a common, greater Reality that is bonded to the unseen heart as true as the experiences will fall off like a coat in summer. The unseen remains with me and calls my focus to be true to me, whatever circumstances crowd for my control. Focus on the only true and eternal: faith to brings sight to the blind. Illuminates the steps. Just ask to see the unseen; to step into the dark and trust the Light of the one who gives breath and His sight. Dream on; but live more. Focus in faith and see the world of our own hearts and lives as never before. See the unseen to truly, abundantly live as we were made to live - breathing air of grace and love that can't be seen, only known. Ask and See.

Beginning

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. 2 Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. Genesis 1:1-2

In our beginning, there was no time. Even Creation, there was no time. There was day, night, and seasons. For Earth and for us. There was only beauty and relationship. With Creator and then with each other. From then to now to forever: creation has no calendar. Day, night and seasons, but no clock. Time was a structural demarcation of nature that we constructed; and for that we are most thankful. Hours, days, months, years. Clocks and calendars meant to guide us…but never meant to control us. Interesting thing happened in the 2020^th year since Christ was crucified and rose – by our calendar – since time split. Most of humanity over the entire Earth, had calendars cleared. We always say we want more time; but we mean on our own terms like a flurry of snowflakes in beauty and wonder. What we received, was an avalanche that rolled on with no end in sight. All together now. Go home and wait. And wait and wait. We are still waiting for “normal” to return – calendars to fill and demarcations to enclose. Just to feel normal. 9-5 work hours. Concert times. Dinner reservations. Yet some deadlines, on the other hand, did not cease: housing and electric bills, doctors’ appointments, and millions of other timelines. As varied as fingerprints, each had their own shockwave as never in our lifetime. Lose the clock, lose our minds. We don’t want a blank canvas to story; we want our lives back as before. Time on our terms. Clocks in our control. The clock ticks on and calendar turns a page tonight. Desperate for relief we always celebrate a “new beginning.” Maybe tonight more than ever. Deep down, we know there’s not carriage at midnight that magically changes circumstances. We are never called to complacency, but to wisdom  beyond ourselves that drives us to altar the lives that affect us and all around us. Choices to destiny.

A calendar is never our true comfort and joy. A grand celebration in tradition, to be sure! I celebrate with all the earth in the numbers turning tonight…but I look to celebrate more than the turn. I look not to return to before where time was Ruler of All, but to put time in its place: as a guide, not a dictator.  An earthen structure, I wish not to escape, but to embrace. I remember those who have no sense of turning time: humans enslaved and imprisoned. I am inspired by those who have no sense of turning time: nature as it’s been since the beginning. Less depression; more inspiration. More celebration in moments than numbers. Going back to the beginning to live in present. Not in ignorance or escape, quite the opposite. Live in full awareness that time in not limitations to entangle, but a harness to guide. Not a race against time, but a race with time. Beyond time. We will always have a beginning, an ending, and a life in between. But when I remember the true beginning – without time but with relationship – always intended to be without an end – true life is restored and lived. Celebration comes beyond tradition to expand into the horizons – celebration of life, provision, freedom, hope and love that nothing controls. Life is not controlled: Tragedy will come, as the dark with the light. But nothing separates from the love. As in the beginning to now to come there was only and will always be: rest in the Love.

So, tonight I celebrate a passing of time with great joy and contentment. Tonight the wind blows, so perfectly. Sensing the Spirit blowing away the days of past; not just in calendar, but in life. Let the seas swell and winds stir! All around are reminders of the Spirit as the true guide; great and small. Details, decisions, disasters and darkness. Most of all, grandeur, beauty, joy, and light. Dark days are ahead, but in the heart and mind of true awareness of the Unseen , most loved one: your carriage always awaits. 

Path

Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it. - Matthew 7:13-14

The harder the hike, the grander the view. With each step, the promise remained true. A common phrase when meeting travelers on the trails was: “It's worth it.” The view cannot be described, only experienced. Each traveler’s lens will see something different. So each must take their own steps to their own moments. The stones are slick with rain. The pebbles are loose with time. The mud and moss call with danger. Even death. A new trail emerges with mystery and allure. 

Miles of clay mud and thousands of trees accompany the way. Then, around the bend, the sound of the siren: waterfall. A river plunges to the depths of beauty with the power and glory that mesmerizes all who enter its domain. “And I, I took the road less traveled and am better for it,” Robert Frost famously once penned. I am, indeed. Rest in the Revelation. Immerse in the immensity. Remember this road to return: be still and be in beauty beyond.

The trail continues on – a new path for me. To where and what wonders would I see? Continuing on, the trail again turns treacherous, narrowing with each step, to barely a brush of fallen woods. Coming across a small creek, the trail ends at a wide, gravel road. Level ground, just as I began. Now to determine my next steps: return to the steep mud or travel the level gravel. Surely the road will converge with the one I called base, and the way will be much easier. Makes sense to travel the gravel. So I forge on – passing campsite after empty campsite – adorned with lantern posts and gray fire pits. I continue for a mile or two, safe but unsure. What if, the roads don’t converge? I’ve never been this way before, so I can’t be sure. 

The road does provide one thing the woods did not: a signal. So, I finally pull out my GPS to compass my way. I register my home v. my position. I see the ending of two roads, with blank space in between. The position is still unsure. I widen the view for better positioning. The truth comes into view: the roads do not converge for many miles. Each step was only taking me farther away home. Each moment was drawing closer to the dark of night. The wide, desolate road was safe and quiet, but deceptive. The narrowed path was treacherous but held grander glory. The vastness on the map that connected the two roads, between me and home, was the trail I just traversed.  Step off the glittering gravel of pride and presumption back to mud and roots. Such precious time and energy wasted by the lure of “safe travels” – and would have continued so – until I consulted the grander view beyond me. And returned Home. The way home was always there all along, I only needed to ask.

The worst wasn’t the walking. It was the inescapable swarms of buzzing in my ear. Mirroring the distracting thoughts that buzzed in my mind. I couldn’t shake the buzzing, no matter my motion. Like a tallit (prayer shawl), my only hope was to wrap a cloth around my head to shield the distraction and focus my steps. Once back on the trail, the buzzing stopped.

We’ve all stepped onto the same wide road; especially this year. We can’t control the paths, but we can choose our steps. Control our choices. Death doesn’t come from obvious pitfalls, but from loose pebbles that slip up our footing. We can never assume that we predetermine what our “wide road” may be by comparing to another’s roadway. The lure may be as simple as a perceived safety from treachery. For me, I wasted decades in relationships that "felt safe" but were actually detrimental. Deception of codependency. The road may be unbelief that winds into worry. Feels rationalized as "nurturing" but in reality is destroying. Glittering with gold, we follow as fools. Further and further from true rest, we waste our lives relying on our own wisdom. And the air is getting dark. All along, the true path awaits each of us, only for our return. Not all moments on the path are treachery and not all moments are glorious. Not all are lonely and not all are family. But each moment is step on our life’s path. The Guide is always there.  We need only ask and follow until we come Home.

Wave Walker

“Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.”  “Come,” He said. Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. ³⁰ But when he saw the high waves, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?” – Matthew 14:28-31

Waves. It’s all about waves these days; and every day. Waves recede, waves return. Waves of fear, waves of peace. Waves of income, waves of expense. Waves of comfort, waves of dread. Waves of sorrow, waves of joy. Your invitation wasn’t just to one man on one night – it’s to us all, every moment. Who will ask, "is it You?" Who will come at your invitation? In the very midst of waves, not just when they are calm and “safe.” We cannot control the waves, though we spend our entire lives struggling to tame the ocean of our circumstances. Worse, the circumstances of our loves. We want to; but our want is tragically misplaced. When we focus on our “waves,” however they may be, we sink beneath the weight of ourselves, not the water. The waves are not at fault. It’s our choice to focus on the only One who causes us to rise.

We are not called to walk on water to rise above our stormy circumstances and “be better.” We are called to be with You. Just as we were from the first moments to our last. We walk on the impossible because You are there and You call me by name to be with You inside the waves.

There are also sure stones that waves roll around. Foundations at our feet when You are our focus. Your love. Your joy. Your peace. Your Presence. Such stones rise as Your promised presence; a platform we share with You. They belong to You as gifts to me. I only become aware of Your provided protections when I choose to meet Your faithful and loving gaze that draws me out of a watery grave. When I look to such stones as my salvation, they become idols that crumble in the crashing pressure. You alone are my salvation – not just to save me from myself, but to save me to Yourself. There is never a moment I either sink in me or swim in You (however I may feel about my moments as blessed or cursed). Faith to see; faith to be. Faith to rise in the gaze of Your eyes. Faith You are wave walker.

Today's Catch

Luke 5:1-7 Day We Met One day as Jesus was standing by the Lake of Gennesaret, ^[the people were crowding around him and listening to the word of God. He saw at the water’s edge two boats, left there by the fishermen, who were washing their nets. He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little from shore. Then he sat down and taught the people from the boat. When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into deep water, and let down the nets for a catch. Simon answered, “Master, we’ve worked hard all night and haven’t caught anything. But because you say so, I will let down the nets.” When they had done so, they caught such a large number of fish that their nets began to break. So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them, and they came and filled both boats so full that they began to sink.

John 21:1-7 Day We Met Again Afterward Jesus appeared again to his disciples, by the Sea of Galilee. It happened this way:  Simon Peter, Thomas (also known as Didymus^[), Nathanael from Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two other disciples were together. “I’m going out to fish,” Simon Peter told them, and they said, “We’ll go with you.” So they went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing. Early in the morning, Jesus stood on the shore, but the disciples did not realize that it was Jesus.  He called out to them, “Friends, haven’t you any fish?” “No,” they answered. He said, “Throw your net on the right side of the boat and you will find some.” When they did, they were unable to haul the net in because of the large number of fish.

Today's Catch

From the day they first met to the day they said goodbye, the scenes are playfully identical. Only Jesus, of course, knew of the staging. Only Jesus knew of each moment of their lives, from birth to eternal Sabbath, and each detail in between. Especially the three years they would share face to face. Just as He knows our beginnings, our ends, and our detailed stories. Never without Him.

What strikes me today, is how he found them. Without fish. They were by trade, fishermen, so this is a day devoid of income for themselves and their families. They worked hard and long for their catch. They didn't wait for it to rain down from heaven; they worked for it all. But this day, and others, nothing. No fish, no food. No food, no living. Simple as that. They didn’t have CDs, savings accounts, or 401Ks to borrow from. On top of that, like for us now, they owed the government taxes. So no income was piling debt. Slaves to the system. There was no government loans or unemployment bailouts. Striking familiar on a day where at least 22 million people in this country alone are looking at an unforeseeable future of “no fish.” Not to mention the millions of family that depend on the income of said “fish.” This is exactly where Jesus walks up and very specifically engages the situation. Day one, already knowing of their plight, He gives direction. Simon answers with explanation: “We’ve already given all we can for the night, but because you are here and you say, we will go once more.” Doubt, but do anyway. He was just being honest in his engagement with the Creator of All, including the fish. I think Jesus appreciated the honesty of doubt as much as the action of obedience. Not faith, necessarily, but obedience. There’s no record of them meeting prior to this moment. No record that the fishermen even had a clue as to who he was except a teacher on the beach. But something when He spoke said, ‘I know you’re tapped out. But move by my Words. More than your empty nets. Just for Me. One more time.’ He never belittled their situation. He didn’t humiliate them to make an example of their flawed ways. Wasn’t even their fault, really. None of that mattered. 

Only one thing mattered: He’s here, He’s addressing my personal need, and He’s asking me to trust enough to follow His voice. There’s not a formula to fill the boat. And that was never the point of the miracle. The point was His presence, very specific to the one He loves. In fact, both times they found the Provider to be far more valuable than the provision. The left the fish to follow. He gives and He is: Fish to the fisherman, sight to the blind, skin to the leper. Food to the family. Love to the lonely. Freedom to the captive. He says to each one: "Be with Me to find wholeness in ways you’d never imagine. Have you fish? Follow me for much, more more than fish....from beginning to end. Crown me King, Friend, Love, Provision - all that you are personally to all that I AM intimately...cast down nets to be with Me...and find much more than fish. Fish is only moment one...I AM your every need and desire. Every single one." 

Phoenix Road

Exodus 14:29-31 But the Israelites went through the sea on dry ground, with a wall of water on their right and on their left. That day the Lord saved Israel from the hands of the Egyptians, and Israel saw the Egyptians lying dead on the shore. And when the Israelites saw the mighty hand of the Lord displayed against the Egyptians, the people feared the Lord and put their trust in him and in Moses his servant.

Then an entire praise and worship set erupted. A whole chapter’s worth. As soon as the last chord was strummed, reality hit again. They walked three days without water. Not a punishment for anything, but surely for testing of their trust that they so boisterously proclaimed a few minutes before. When they finally reached water, it was as bitter as their coming complaints. Yet, Jehovah, their Companion and Saviour, shows His mercy more personally in His provision. From walls of water passage to wells of water consumption, He hears their cries again and provides. One month and one chapter later, the grumbling begins.

Exodus 16:1-3 “The whole Israelite community set out from Elim and came to the Desert of Sin, which is between Elim and Sinai, on the fifteenth day of the second month after they had come out of Egypt.  In the desert the whole community grumbled against Moses and Aaron. The Israelites said to them, “If only we had died by the Lord’s hand in Egypt! There we sat around pots of meat and ate all the food we wanted, but you have brought us out into this desert to starve this entire assembly to death.”

All with the very visible and overwhelming presence of God in the pillar of cloud by day and pillar of fire by night. Month two. Decades to go. And all but two of the grumbling children ever saw the journey through. Not because they grumbled, per se, but more because the grumbling showed they didn’t trust God (what got us into the eternal Desert of Sin in the first place). The very One who had walked them through the walls of water to their salvation. A salvation they actually despised because they decided they were more comfortable in slavery. They were to die either way, they surmised, so might as well be more comfortable. Forgetting all the while, that they were brought out of Egypt to worship God. Instead, they brought war to the one who fought for their freedom.

Conditions were not ideal, obviously. Hindsight is not judgmental to cry foul from this side of history. This is not at all to say, “Suck it up. This is nothing compared to what’s to come.” I’m sure that I would have been in the chorus of hunger stricken mobsters. Preferring slavery to salvation, known to unknown. We are not given their story to judge their lives, but to place a mirror to our own. So, in that, I wonder of today…Today was literally an eruption of praise and worship above normal, being calendared Resurrection Sunday. “He is Risen” is raised above all other words! Hosanna has saved us from the Desert of Sin! The greatest day in the history of all histories! We are led through the Sea of Reeds (Law) to our Salvation! All so true and to be proclaimed (but for more than just one day).

Not three hours later, we resume scrolling the headlines and are snapped back into reality of the hungry families to feed. Not even three days later and the boisterous songs of salvation and praise of Saviour are drowned by our own distraction. Distraction will happen and can’t avoided. But it can be re-directed. So we, even now, join the chorus of complainers. We don’t mean to, but here we are nonetheless:

“Why are we in this wilderness? Whose fault is it we are here? Some foreign king or our very own leader? We were ushered here in a hurry – we had no choice but to come here. It would have been much better to stay where we were – ignorant of other’s sufferings and comfortably fed and in our beds. True, we were slaves to so much, but we didn’t know any better. It’s how we were taught for hundreds of years. Couldn’t we have simply learned a better way to live without having to be uprooted and starved? Slavery is no day by the sea, but at least we were numb to it through centuries of conditioning. Now we are temporarily thrust into a much worse reality of pitch, black darkness. The worst part is – there’s not calendar. There’s no “arrival time.” How long are we expected to endure? If we only had a date and time of this horrible journey’s end, we could better endure. Maybe. Just let us go back to what we knew. You may be doing something new, but can’t you make a plan, give us a map, come along for the ride, and then everyone, including You LORD, will be a lot happier about this whole ordeal. We self-sustain and if not, we complain. In our food, our shelters, our health, even our churches/religions. Sure there was war and everyday deaths, but this is a dark we don’t know how to navigate. Better to sacrifice in common death than to plunge the entire earth into darkness – faithful and non-alike.”

And on and on we go – justified in our complaints. Even in scripture, when they complained, YHWH provided. I’m thinking it wasn’t the complaining He bowed to as if they controlled their circumstances. But His Mercy and Love, despite their despising. I’m thinking the complaining angered Him because they came accusing instead of asking.

Where is the song of celebration and praise from just a chapter before? Where is our song of praise from just this morning? Is our annual statement of Risen-ness a memorial, a mist, or memory? Again, not a harsh judgement. Not a comparison of disasters or distractions. There is much, much loss to be lamented. There is a very tangible, real onslaught of darkness, disease and death. Had it not affected us all in ways such as physically, financially, emotionally, etc – we would have chalked it up to “someone else’s misfortune” like a natural disaster distant from our shores. But here we all are, in the dark. Some more than others, and worse yet, feeling alone. I also quickly scroll the headlines and try to dispel the darkness with distraction. I am not above it all or calling to simply “think positive thoughts or pray harder” to change the dark to light. I am, however, looking for a different way to respond, despite the dark days.

The three day journey of the Israelites in the wilderness expanded into decades – with death ultimately denying them entry into their destination. All because of one thing: they didn’t trust Jehovah in the dark. With the very visible Light, by their side the entire time. They became so accustomed to the sight of the pillars of cloud and fire, of the Presence of YHWH Himself, they ignored and despised Him until He proved Himself in Provision and Power. Then, they would fall into complacency and bitterness again. He brought them out of slavery for one reason: their worship and relationship. Still, they ignored and despised Him unless He did for them what they complained about (as if they were the ones to be bowed to). They made themselves and their darkness their god. Hour by hour, day by day, night by night, year by year, decade by decade, generation by generation.

We’ve been in the dark for a few days with conditions that are difficult (see third world countries battling this disease ridden pandemic to get a true view of difficult). Not at all downplaying all that has turned to ash within a matter to days: death, despair, dreams lost and provisions in smoke. All are affected, and all are on the same road. Some darker than others, but there is not even an Egypt to return to. How then shall we respond? See still, the pillar of Fire as our salvation.

Was the cry of Hosanna for a few hours on the road or was the lantern of praise lit for the long road ahead – however long the journey may be? There is, by the way, no formula Jehovah adheres to. He doesn’t see our morning devotions drowning out our segregated grumbling as proper penance and release us to lighter days. The Light isn’t to bring us more manna for easier travels. The Light is to illuminate the Face of our Companion. He didn’t come to release us from slavery of ourselves to return to the bondage of self-sufficiency. He releases us for one purpose of our being: to be with Him, to trust Him, to love Him. He continues to care for each personally, be water or manna, out His Love alone. How much sweeter to trust in the One who provides the manna than to eat of the ash of our own understanding and grumblings which flow from distrust (be real in how you feel, don’t bury the heart. Lament, cry, scream, pray. But in it all, as King David, ask that He leads you to trust the Light more than the dark). Not on our own strength, but in humble thanks and light of His flame: each morning may we rise from the ashes of ourselves to Phoenix on His wings into the dawn.