Monday, October 22, 2012

Where the Wild Things Are

I stare across acres of knife-sharp marble whetted by wind and ice. At the summit a lone pine tree stands; held fast by rock-bound roots. I hesitate; firm earth and gnarled limb support my body--worn to rubber by the hike. You may never have another chance. Go...

I step into the open, and my heart thrashes against its cage as I ponder the indefinite chasms at my feet. Adrenaline swims in my veins while autumn air chills through my sweat-soaked shirt. Scraping stones echo deep; my knees tremble. I grab cold slabs and pull myself up, one rock at a time. Beneath every step lies a broken leg; a twisted ankle. I feel a perverse thrill.

His voice sounds strong in my head, "I will make your feet like the feet of a hind. I will enable you to tread on the heights. This is what you were born to do. This is what I created you for." Pine needles hiss above my head as I gaze down dizzy at raw, unpasteurized life. There at the summit I see His glory; I feel His pleasure; and I understand His words uttered from the beginning: "It is good."