Grace Along the Way

What is the journey of your life?  A circus caravan, with monkeys screeching and leaping around in their cages as you roll along? That is, do you struggle with chaos? Or are you trudging hot, dusty roads with your backpack straps digging into your shoulders, on a pilgrimage to some sort of Mecca, whose expected glory is fading before you even get there? That is, do you struggle with hope? Or perhaps despair? Is your trip through life at times (or ever) a cushy-smooth ride in a BMW, in which you cruise with speed and style -- but you have a nagging whisper to your heart that "the nearer your destination, the more you're slip-sliding away?" (Thanks for that thought, Simon & Garfunkel)!

There is a gap, often huge, between how we actually are traveling our journey and how we wish we could. We fill the gap with hard work, planning, new ideas. That's me... We fill it with lots of little things, like eating way too many potato chips, numbing out on screen of choice, making and keeping friends who keep us safe and shallow... I have done those things, too--oh, yeah. There has never been a shortage of "drugs of choice" in the history of the whole world, some perfectly respectable, and some not so much.  

Then there is Grace. Grace along the way. I do need it, even when I don't realize it.  Especially when I don't realize it, because those monkeys in my head are screaming way to loud for me to hear anything sane. Like, perhaps, "Hey, there is such a thing as hope, here."  Or the heat and dust of the road whisper, "Just forget this. Lay down and die. Goodness gets bestowed on far better, stronger people than you."  

 Grace on the way. It is, in truth, with me every step of this journey. It is often--even usually--invisible, but quietly present. When life beats me up so bad, that I end up lying on the side of the road, Grace is on the way, like a sort of Good Samaritan who treats my wounds and hoists me onto her donkey. She whispers Hope into my weary consciousness, and -- eventually -- wobbly strength returns to my legs. "Advancing still from [wobbly] strength to strength, we go where other pilgrims trod, until we stand before the face of God."

The Face of God?? This is the final destination? Yes. The Beatific Vision. The Shekinah Glory. To see The Great I AM.  Yahweh, Himself.  Jesus--the lover of our souls.  He Whom we have desired, even when I we thought that what we wanted were a million other things. The Spirit, Whose groaning prayers for us will be fully answered... Home. At last. 

The screaming monkeys in our heads will be silenced. Our burning feet will be cool and washed. Our King was the kneeling Servant. False comforts will vanish, the curtain will fall, and the circus lights will fade... The journey will have ended. It will be done, finished. 

Then?  Peace.  Enfoldment.  I look into His eyes and know I was the beloved all along.  He smiles into my eyes, bends, and whispers into my ear a new name He has named me. I nod. 

We both know why.