I have spent this week grieving.  A friend from my youth ministry days, a young man named Josh was found dead on New Years day, by his mother, my dear friend, Carmen. Josh was so much more than the dime a dozen cool guys that Orange County turns out by the truckload.  He was good, a good and rare soul. Since that day, I have cried with Carmen, cried with kids, cried with my former co-workers, cried in my living room, my car, walking down the street, in my bed, and in homes of friends and strangers.

The absurdity of it all has left me living in Ecclesiastes. To everything there is a season, yes, yes. This is true, but that does not mean that there is a reason, at least not one we can know in this life, and the fact that we can sometimes think we know, is as much the log in our eyes as it is insight.  

I have attempted many times to make life easier with insight.  I now sit humbled by how much of it may well have been wood, hay, and stubble.  Much of my life has been spent so that… . So many so thats.  So much waiting.  So much investment.  So much hope?  I don’t know if I knew what hope was.  I might know more now, though I am not confident, but i still don’t have many words, only a keen sense of my vaporous life.

Are we not the the substance of the waters separated from the waters, and will we not, when the all consuming fire comes, be released like steam as our true nature is revealed. And will this not be the final movement from glory to glory. For the first time, I am unafraid of Christ’s words, “I have come to cast fire upon the earth; and how I wish it were already kindled!” (Luke 12:49)