Taking Risks

The lies that terrorize us are not always raging and stomping. They lie in gentle rumples among the shadows at the edges of our consciousness, dim fears masquerading as calm reason. They do not crow, but whisper and flap and echo soft and low. Their constant presence fools us into believing that they are reliable landmarks rather than predators lying in wait to scam us out of truth's inheritance. The fog they cast seems familiar rather than sinister, and we are often overwhelmed in quiet places and in undefended moments. Lies are hard to counter. You can do battle with a storming foe seek out and tamp down uncontrolled flames, mount a guard against even marauding hordes. But what do you do with long grey swathes of unacknowledged dread, soft folds spread along the horizon of thought? 

Draw them out, strand by strand. Count them. Lay them in the light. There is only one weapon that can fell a lie galvanized with fear. Tell the truth, no matter how trite or how childish or how hollow it sounds next to the howling spectre the whispers allude to.

Appeal to Jesus, who has been this way before us. The Man of Sorrows knows all the terrors that may come flying out of the abyss. Proclaim it loud and long - that he loves us and we are worthy of his love.

Say that we are not faded and insignificant. We are not ignored; not living empty, stodgy, useless lives. We have launched out into a fearsome deep, trusted our lives and our hopes and our selves to a God whom we cannot see. We are not forgotten, not foolish, not waste. 

We risk all for the hope of something great and good. We empty our hands and our hearts of their treasures, spend lavishly and generously and grandly. We lift our hands, open and courageously empty, and appeal to the One who is able to give exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or imagine. We are not poor. We are not bereft. We are living wild. We are brave.

You cannot count out faith in beads and spend it sparingly, and also live full and free. 

Say that we are not, despite appearances, small or stepped-on. The light we carry is not snuffed out; it will flame forth at the breath of the Presence we pursue. We may seem stupid and slow. But tell all the truth. Let it reverberate against all our walls. Let it echo like a drumbeat through the dark. This is not failure. We are not lost and not losers. 

We have exchanged all that people call valuable for the Pearl of Great Price. 

Our hands are yet empty, and our hope is yet unanswered. We are not vindicated - yet. But let us not be ashamed. We have not fallen; we are yet mid-leap. Jesus himself will answer us. He will not fail.

Though we seem to huddle in the dim, alone and unseen, with nothing to show for our high hopes and our lives and our heart-labours; though we seem to be forgotten and useless and undignified - our lives empty husks on hard ground - we have the promise of a resurrected Jesus. He breathes life into dry bones. He brings fruit from buried things. 

Let us remember why we have come this way. We hope for more than we can scrabble out of the dust of life for ourselves. We have taken a wild leap into the light and for a moment it seems to swallow us up. But we do not regret. We reject the whispered lies, the muttered scorn in even our own hearts. We have come on a great adventure. We are living rich and wild. And underneath it all, we have this promise: We are loved. We are loved, We are loved.

Let us rest a little and cry a little and go forward again. Surely, Jesus himself will be Enough to fill all the emptiness of our deep hearts and our open hands.