Fiction that explores the monsters and strangers among us.

Friday, April 22, 2011

Good Friday

They spin. They whirl. They reel about. It’s a hurly-burly trying to make a big wind with its vanes. But the gizmo has it backwards. The hurry-scurry doesn’t make the wind. The wind makes the fins gyre and twirl.

We live in a backwards world, you and I. It’s a world where winter storms rage and people dress for summer. The world is an unforgiving place. One mistake and you’re out. But the world has a promise maker – a God who offers life even in the face of death.

The blades coil round and round until they are invisible. We hear the hum and see the waves of moving air and know the knife-edges are there. The propellers are not the action’s cause but rather the acted upon. We are like them, twisting and gyrating to no useful purpose until acted upon by a loving, gracious God.

Our God forgives our wayward corkscrewing and sets us in the right direction. We may be upon a flight of fancy but we’re powered by a force that’s real. See. Our slicing knives are rotating. Praise the Lord. He wheels our vanes in the right direction.

Do not resist the pull of the cutting edge. Do not try to brake them. Let the blades, by God’s own hand, take you to the sky. From up upon the highest peak, from up upon a cloud, we’ll flit and dance to God’s triumphant beat.

The world may not be ready for a soul that swivels and gambols, but the soul is ready, when to God it goes. Swirl upon a clear blue sky. Spiral upon a cloud. Whatever passes far below, God provides the ride.

No comments:

Post a Comment