between what I know and believe
between what and how I feel
I’ve wrestled this one.
I am not without limp
though I’ve learned to walk well.
and been blessed
and I remain in You.
I can’t run as fast,
but I walk with purpose this path before me.
In the grace I’ve been given I stand.
I know a wrestling. I know a limp.
I know a shock of being jumped
and fighting through the night, through the pain
refusing to let go
ignoring Eliphaz and Bildad and Zophar.
There is a blessing to see the wrestling through the night. Our limps remind us.
To watch you learn to walk again is a blessing.
To watch our paths diverging—tears at me.
Tears deeper still—not in spite of, but because of friendship.
Friendship demands presence, engagement.
Disengagement would be a swift, clean cut
--dead before the blood hits the floor.
Engagement is a slow, jagged tearing.
Tearing of emotions, dreams, affections, things known, things believed
We have both fought, and lost, and been blessed, and will walk with a limp.
We both know grace and stand in it.
And like ripping a piece of cloth our paths diverge.
But Lord, what about this man?
You reply, “It is my will that he remain until I come.
“What is that to you?
What is that to me?
You ask me, to think, to remember.
That is comfort, endurance.
I choose to follow.
I choose to be torn.
For this Lenten season I am giving up perfectionism and posting a blog each day, Monday through Friday, from Ash Wednesday on February 13th, through Easter, on March 31st. For more information, read “What Are You Giving Up?” Jesus died for me and loves me, and this is an exercise in remembering that. Thanks for joining me!