by Ken Sehested
Sometimes knees grow weak and hearts grow faint.
Sometimes vision grows dim and resolve wavers.
Sometimes we simply want Jesus to leave us alone.
The prophets, like the great Elijah, get frightened by the King Ahabs and the Queen Jezebels of this age.
Prophets get weary.
No one listens. No one pays attention.
The devil has every appearance of being in charge.
Every day brings more evidence that the market is rigged,
that when the rich wage war it is the poor that die,
that the cries of persistent widows no longer reach corrupt judges.
In the middle of this pity party, surrounded by history’s storms and quakes and wildfires, the sound of overpowering silence brings us to attention.
And a voice of stone-cold stillness settles in and announces,
“Get over yourself. Who said you are alone? You don’t know the half of it!”
Then, just as abruptly, comes the word, “Saddle up. Boots on. Face to the wind. Hat pulled low. Time to move.”
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