Wednesday, December 2, 2020                     (today’s lectionary)
Firmly in the hands of God
The hand of the Lord rests on his mountain. On his mountain, the Lord will provide a feast of rich food and choice wines.
Driving south out of America’s breadbasket (Illinois, I mean), into the rice and cotton fields of Arkansas and the cattle ranches of Texas, I taste it all. But I also taste the bitterness of over-used land, under-planned development and our general willingness to ignore all of that. We don’t abandon ourselves to divine providence. We abandon our old cars and tractors instead. Our brick buildings erode and turn to powder year by year. There is something greener just over the hill.
On his mountain he will destroy the veil woven over all the nations. Between us all, we have always lived with the veil of death. But he will destroy death forever. The Lord God will wipe away the tears from every face.
A big bird flies up from the roadkill. She’ll be back shortly, a vulture appreciating her meal. Many of our friends have been touched by death in the family this year. We’re getting to that age, of course. Margaret told me they can’t film a new rendition of the old show Golden Girls because over half the cast has passed away. Alex Trebek died, and Jeopardy will recover but never be the same.
When I walk through the dark valley I will fear no evil, for you are with me. Your rod and staff, they comfort me.
In the meantime I fly down the road in a loaded car, knowing that Austin is just a hop-skip-jump away (well, nine hours …). I’ll empty out the Prius, share a birthday dinner with Miles, Jasper and their parents, and head back to Illinois for another load. How does a taco meal from Torchy’s sound: maybe a Republican taco, a Democrat taco, and an Independent taco? They are very different, I’ve been told. Why not try them all?
You spread the table before me, you anoint my head with oil, my cup overflows.
Our apartment is just a few minutes from the Tomita house. We’ll be spending time together several days a week. Miles and Jasper will become accustomed to our home. I anticipate these regular reunions with great joy, as we plan the future while firmly in the hands of God.
God describes us as a little less than angels, and also as a little more. We have more value than sparrows, Jesus says. And look how much God loves the sparrows. I am happy to eat bread and fish from the hands of Jesus.
My heart is moved with pity for the crowd, for they have been with me three days and have nothing to eat. How many loaves do you have? (Seven, and a few fish.) So Jesus broke the loaves and gave thanks, and the disciples distributed them, and thousands of people had enough to eat, and there were seven baskets left over.
In my mind I notice nothing but gratitude – for the tractors that harvest the corn and rice, for the farmers who feed their cattle, for the trucks who deliver countless vegetables and meat to Torchy’s in the middle of the night, for my children who love me and feed me on my birthday, and especially for the hands of Jesus, full of food for all of us.
There is so much for us to share.
Only goodness and kindness will follow us all the days of our lives. For we shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
(Isaiah 25, Psalm 23, Matthew 15)
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