There are those who quote Mother Teresa’s Letters who will never risk living her life.  There are those who live a monastic life who have waded through oceans of pain and worship. There are those who pretend to be Jeremiah, who have far too much to lose. There are those who are authentic, who have given everything they have, to receive what is completely other.

If I have not sold all I have and given it to the poor, I will never know how to buy a field while in prison. My faith has to be exercised; it has to be tested. I can’t educate myself into loving God. I can’t hate sin appropriately. I can’t enter the kingdom of God by climbing a wall. I can’t assume I have an office, a crown, a gift or an inheritance. I can’t mislead people by spewing the ideological structures they demand. I can’t do whatever the hell I want; period! I am constrained and compelled by Another.

Am I an accuser / condemner? Am I venting frustration? Am I grief-stricken? Am I blind? Am I deaf? Am I dead wrong? I have to be willing to say, “I might be!” Yes, I must be willing and able to repent and adjust… the key! I have to be willing and able to say, “I’m sorry. That’s right!”

But, my detractors typically don’t stick around long enough. At high noon, they lob bombs at me and run for the hills; disappearing into the twilight. That’s fine, but I won’t let their little devices explode under cover of darkness. There are others nearby. I won’t play target practice with human lives. My struggle is not against flesh and blood. I am clothed in armour and fighting alongside One who knows how to bring it down on our enemies. Isaiah 30 ends,

Every blow God lands on them with his club is in time to the music of drums and pipes, God in all-out, two-fisted battle, fighting against them… God’s breath, like a river of burning pitch, starts the fire.

I pray for peace. I dance upon injustice. I hear that voice behind me saying, “This is the way; walk in it.” At the same time, I will not put down my sword. I’ll put all these things where they belong when He arrives. Here’s the crux: the Holy Spirit is not Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ is embodied and hard at prayer and work. In the meantime…

The Holy Spirit does not mind that we are so militantly expectant of our King (faith believes him; hope expects him; love embraces him; joy is surprised by him). In fact, the Holy Spirit of Jesus Christ is the Very One who deposited this fierce fire into us; so it is the Holy Spirit’s responsibility that we become focused and vigilant children, farmers, athletes and soldiers… under One Father in Heaven… awaiting the arrival of our Lord and our God; Jesus Christ!

Yes, it’s personal. He’s embodied! Peter was right, angels long to look into these things!