Amidst the turmoil

The strange but welcome presence of peace

My mind is not a spirit of perturbation, but one of hope, one of wild, reckless, mad hope in the Lord, God and Saviour, who sanctified tribulation and brought the world to its knees by His humble prayer, His prodigious love that permeates all that I know and see. Even amidst the madness, the angst, He is among us, ever and always in the midst of our sin and our mess and failure; his grace abounds.

So wave your banners and a bleat upon your horns; rage, fume, fuss. You may revel and rot in your rancour, your dissension. I have no part in it. I have no place in it. I pray that I may ever and always dance at the edge of your sword and cast my man mind back to Calvary, to the place of the skull, where hope died only to be born anew only to be resurrected, glorified, and with it the world in which we live.

Revel and rot in your fickle hatred, your imperfect angst, your confusion. I can take no part in it. I trust in our Lord in His grace, and I am sustained by His sacraments; I I am nourished by His word, and your mess, and your noise will come to nought.

And even in my ash heap I will know and I will love and serve Him. I will adore the Lord in His holy temple and so you may gasp and pant and rail on horn and pipe… I will turn my mind to a parable, with the harp I will solve my problem.

I will awake the dawn.