if only simple
still
existed
and the space of time
caught
captured
in the perfect symmetry
of then
of when
if only aching
really
faded
and love could be
felt
understood
though it may not
appear
perfected
if only happiness
would
find
and the sun
would
rise
and the world
be
right
for you.

(my heart breaks still for you my friend)

All throughout the book of Proverbs – and Psalms too, to some extent – there is presented a stark contrast between the wise and the foolish. It is a very black-and-white representation of the two opposites, so much so that I think sometimes it’s easy to see the extremity of the foolish and assume we are therefore to be lotted with the wise since we are not quite so bad compared to the picture of a fool presented in the Scripture. However, just because you aren’t one thing doesn’t mean you automatically are another. It’s easy to read that, “a fool finds pleasure in evil conduct, but a man of understanding delights in wisdom” (Proverbs 10:23) and think that we find no pleasure in evil conduct, so we must therefore be OK and must be wise when, really, that isn’t the case; the wise man is required to delight in wisdom.

My point is that the delineation between wisdom and folly is perhaps not quite as cut-and-dried as we think, that perhaps it is easier to be a fool than it is to be wise, that maybe just because we aren’t ‘as bad as’ the caricature of a fool doesn’t necessarily make us not a fool. That maybe being wise is like the center of a bullseye, and being a fool is all of the wider rings around that small center, and just because we get close doesn’t mean we’re any less of a fool merely by measurement of distance. This verse in particular challenged me a lot:

In his pride the wicked does not seek God; in all his thoughts there is no room for God.
Psalms 10:4

The wicked man (or foolish man) in this verse is proud. Pride is thinking we can be autonomous, that we can get along just fine all by ourselves without any help from anyone. It excludes need from our thought process and leaves no acknowledgement of our weakness or imperfection. But that is not the primary sin of this man. The sin of the wicked as presented in this verse is that in all of his thoughts there is no room for God.

Wow.

Take a second and think about that.

How much room is there in your thoughts for God?

How many of your thoughts exclude any reference to Him altogether?

Pride is, unfortunately, a root that has taken hold in the heart of all of us. It is essence to the state of fallen, unredeemed humanity. Until we reach heaven, none of us will ever be completely rid of it. It sneaks up on us so easily, coaxing us gently and slyly away from our dependency on and desperation for God. It doesn’t take much. And our sin? That our thoughts no longer are centered on Christ. It’s like we were standing under an umbrella of protection and covering that, as long as we stay right underneath it, we are covered; but the moment we stray out from underneath it we expose ourselves to a downpour of soul-drenching storms.

You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in You, whose thoughts are fixed on You!
Isaiah 26:3

Distraction comes so easily. It steals our thoughts and wastes our time until we find ourselves confused, ill at ease, and without any clear direction. It draws us away from the path of wisdom and leaves us stranded at the dead-end of foolishness. And how does that happen? By leaving no room in our thoughts for God. Elsewhere in Proverbs it says,

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom and knowledge of the Holy One is understanding.
Proverbs 9:10

The Hebrew word for “fear” used in this well-known verse emphasizes awe or reverence rather than terror. It is this kind of fear that provokes the God-fearer to implement his fear in practical righteousness. The word for “knowledge” is a particular kind of knowledge that comes from personal experience. Both of these words sum up an intimate aquaintance with God that comes from being captivated in awe and reverence, the kind of captivation that grabs your entire attention and wrecks your concentration for anything else; an intimate relationship that has developed from knowing God inside-out in every way, in every part of your being. And both of these words leave implication of a person whose entire life is consumed with seeking God, beginning with his thoughts.

in the almost uncertainty
of this thing called life
i am surprised to find
an answer that is posed
as a question to my heart
and as nothing makes sense
somehow this one thing does
and i’ll build my life
i’ll build my life
on the growing surety
of this one thing
and what we thought was a surprise
i think we will find
by the end of this almost uncertain
thing we call life
that it was no surprise at all
though we didn’t see it coming
and that the unknowns of our life
all pointed to the one
anchor we will have
the safe harbor we can hide in
the foundation of our hearts
and we will build
and we will build
our life upon this love

From the beginning, he had known he was destined for greatness. The circumstances surrounding his birth were enough to prove that fact to most. And since he was old enough to walk, his parents had whispered the words angels had spoken to them: “You are going to be great in the sight of the Lord, John; the Spirit of the Most High dwells in you, my son; you will bring the people of Israel back to their God; you will go on before the Lord in the spirit and power of the prophet Elijah of old; you will make ready a people prepared for the Lord.”

John had served God his whole life, never once turning, never once stumbling, but walking straight forward like an arrow to hit the mark set for his life. He knew the call like he had heard it spoken by God himself. He knew he was to be a voice crying in a desert land among a thirsty people, making a way for the coming of the King. It was his destiny – the pinnacle of his life would be the moment he would step aside and bow low to make known the one true King of Israel. So he spent his life preparing for that one moment. Studying, living a life of the strictest asceticism and devotion to God, becoming an outcast as he preached a word of righteousness and repentance among a people who did not know their own sin.

His message caused quite a stir, to say the least. Some responded; many did not. Some came for hunger of truth; most came to see the spectacle of a man clothed in camel skin who ate locusts and preached a radical new religion that flew in the face of establishment. He was gaining quite a reputation. Indeed, he lived up to the prophetically announced resemblance to Elijah. He was bold, radical, and undaunted by proud and powerful religious leaders. But with every confrontation, with every repentance, with every baptism – still he waited to see the day of the Lord’s coming. More than all the other people who waited in hopeful silence, he longed to see the day his Lord would come and John’s own purpose would be fulfilled.

That day the religious leaders sent people to question John. They wanted to know who he was. John, of course, knew the answer to that question like he knew his own name – it was as much a part of him as his own heartbeat. He was a messenger of the Almighty, the one chosen to prepare the way for the coming Messiah. Their initial question was if this fiery preacher in the desert was indeed the Messiah they all waited to see. John did not hesitate to confess he was not. They then wondered if he was Elijah come back – at this John smiled inwardly; he probably could say yes and they would believe him. But he did not lie. “No,” was his answer. “Then who are you?” John gave careful pause before answering them, knowing whatever words he answered with could easily be twisted and used against him if he did not put thought into his phrasing. The words of his answer came out of his mouth almost of their own volition: “I am the voice of one calling in the desert, ‘Make straight the way for the Lord.’” As the words left his mouth, John suddenly knew.

The testimony of his life was making known the coming of the King, not being known himself for announcing that arrival. It wasn’t about his destiny being fulfilled in and of itself, but about what that destiny was fulfilled in doing. His voice caught in his throat as almost for his own sake, the Baptist murmured, “I am not even unworthy to untie his sandals…”

How had he imagined that moment before? Himself, John, sharing center stage with the Messiah when He came? Being lauded and adored as the Way-Maker for the King? With special accolades and perhaps even position in the new Kingdom the King would bring for being such a faithful servant? It all seemed so utterly ridiculous. Once the King was there, there should be no one to distract from His glory being revealed. How could he even think of himself as worthy of sharing in that glorious appearance? His only purpose was to open blind eyes and hearts so that the King could be seen. His purpose was found in losing himself in God’s purpose. John left the Jordan that day humbled, and knowing now that the day of his destiny’s fulfillment was not any longer about him. It was about the Messiah.

And the next day, He came. And John stepped aside, as the carpenter from Nazareth was revealed as the Son of God who would take away the sins of the world. His purpose was found. The King had come. The people had seen, at least those with eyes to see. He would find his inglorious end in a dungeon, with his head on a golden platter delivered to a weak-willed king at the order of his malicious wife by request of a capricious daughter. He only heard rumors of the Kingdom coming to earth and never saw it. But his purpose was found. The way was made. And John was remembered not for falling away on account of the seeming ingloriousness of his task, but rather for illustrating with his life his prayer to decrease, that He might increase.

Her house was at the meeting of Eleventh and Avenue A, and she lived in the shadows of remarkable silence. Walls painted grey and clocks ticking thunderously, every cushion in place and candle lit, she stood at the window with arms crossed and watched the fog swirl across the street in the falling night. Meant for more, she waited with bated breath for something she could not identify. She waited until she gave up hope, just as the clock struck the hour.

59 minutes ’til midnight, and a wild wind came blowing down the corner of her street, but she couldn’t hear the sound. It whisked away the fog and cleared the air while she lay down to sleep. While she lay dreaming, as she had not done often for years, the wind crept in through the cracked window to interrupt her slumber. Ten minutes ’til midnight, she was wakened by the draft and stood to shut it. At the window she paused and opened the curtains to let the light in from the streetlight on the corner. Fog whirled around it like a hurricane, but still it shone brightly with warm light that illuminated a clear tunnel to the stars hiding behind the clouds. She fled the window and wrapped herself in a long black coat and ran to stand by the light and look at the stars.

Five minutes ’til midnight, and she stood in awestruck wonder at the heavens as her forgotten dreams came back on the wind. She heard the sound, heard the roar, as ferocious life flew at her at a hundred miles an hour. She heard the sound of the wind in her house, blowing through and rearranging. She saw dawn’s light paint her grey walls with color and fill the emptiness with warmth and she remembered that she could not stay.

At dawn’s breaking light after all night with the wind and the stars under the streetlamp she had never seen before, she put on her rainbow-colored poka-dotted rainboots and walked out of her house under a bright yellow umbrella. The sun shone clear despite the dark clouds and reflected off the puddles and wet pavement as she turned on Eleventh and followed the sound that had roared through her night and wakened her slumber to breath life to the dreams she had forgotten how to dream.