Timecheck

At this place again. Well, not quite again, but not quite brand spanking new either. This place that feels hostile, where hope is blur and faith is scarce. This is my wilderness, where it's not enough just to ride off another's hope, or slipstream in a vision that someone else is carving out.

No, this is about much bigger things. My childlike days are numbered, and the responsibilities of taking ownership of the land begin to weigh on me - sword in one hand, plough in another. Enough of fooling around, chasing silly no-god idols that just waste my time and energy - perpetuating destruction in the land.

There is a message that will save humanity from its deathly devices - its silly little games, its trivial pursuits. There is a Creator-Father-God who wants to pour out life freely and abundantly, yet the kids still think that Optimus Prime is going to make the world right some how.

My generation, and the generations after me need something firmer to be found on. We're going to need rich black soil to anchor our roots into and grow strong, not some whittled-down polystyrene box filled with artificial chemicals to hang out in. Who's going to hold out the space where daddy loves mummy, and the kids have a safe place to grow strong? Where are the uncles and aunties in who are going to show the sons of the house what it means to forgive and serve one another generously? Where then, are the veterans who are going to teach Fathers to invest and see the returns paid forward?

These are the things that are drawing me forward - the taut ropes of hope. Ruthless, yet dripping in sweet mercy. After all, Peter would say that all this suffering is simply a weaning from that old sinful habit of always expecting to get my own way, in hope that I'll one day be able to live out my days free to pursue what God wants instead of being tyrannized by what I want.

This one is for you, son.