Being Found Faithful In A Weary World

I had several hours at my shop the other day where usually I’m working, but for a moment I wasn’t. I’d brought with me a few materials to read, one of them being The Bible. I set myself up in a furthest corner, likely having to do with the reason of hiding. I don’t get out much in this way, which I have separate opinions about.

Nevertheless, I read about discipline and devotion and I was the whole time aware of the quote unquote living and active pages that had hardened to one another, cooled down and congealed. Needing, nay, just desiring the warmth of some finger to pull them apart. The moisture of some skin to make them like a leathered hand — worked and worn and with so much to tell. Distracted, I closed the cover, thankful the book doesn’t expire so many days after opening.

Just Wednesday, a friend of mine came in slinging around a banana in one hand and on his other arm, a lunchbox filled with every good thing grown from the ground. He’d probably blend it all up later and drink his familiar drink. Surrounded by people who know him, he looked down at his bounty and smiled, “Back at it.” We’d heard him declare his healthy resolutions and we’d also seen him days before enjoy the feast and convenience of pizza, tacos, beer and the like. But it’s Wednesday, and in front of the public he pronounces with great exclamation that he’ll go again.

I was thinking about this yesterday and how it lifted me. The second the words left his mouth. My gut didn’t lead me to judgement, assuming hypocrisy or false profession, no! I was reminded of faithfulness in a weary world. Saying we want this thing and then letting it down. But then, on a new morning, taking our lamp from under the bushel, giving light not to the furthest corner but to the whole house. And “back at it,” we say, with a posture of gratitude rather than shame — that he’s making us beautiful and whole with the same powerful skill by which he is putting everything as it should be, under and around him. Philippians 3:21 MSG