You Have Not Come to Darkness
I reached in my pocket and pulled out a handful of sand. Along the sea-urchin, reef-lined coast, there were three of us who wanted to be completely skinny-dipping naked like a rebirth in Haiti, but instead, I walked in with my pants on, and so weeks later in my own Arkansas home, I pulled out a handful of sand.
If you want to know half of what I’m thinking, read Seth’s blog. Read what he wrote today. Something has happened.
When I was in Haiti, I told the people in the car with me that I felt like a chemical had washed over my brain. It was the quantum physics of an invisible thing being realized, what some call a miracle. I experienced this one time before. It was the day I first believed, the day I forgot to smoke cigarettes and no longer craved any sort of substance. Something has happened.
Before I left for Haiti I asked Isaac what he knew of Haiti, and he really knew nothing. I mentioned the bad earthquake, and he immediately responded with “why would God ever do something like that?”
I said, “Baby, I don’t think anybody can know why that happened, but I do know that the earth was made to quake. Tectonic plates were made to move along the molten surface. This is how mountains and islands were made in the first place.”
The earth was made to quake. Swallow that one.
And then I read of the Unshakable Kingdom, and when I read it a vision formed in me. When I left for Haiti, I felt the shaking. I was quaking way down inside, fear and trembling. There were things behind the scenes in my life and in the lives of dear ones to me, and we were all shaking. I told you then that there were things I could never type.
This is life for all of us, isn’t it? It’s beautiful, and it’s shaking. It is gold beads of fire strung on a web. It is sun through drips of rain over ruins. Great things are being revealed, and great things are falling away.
When I left home, I feared that witnessing such poverty would strip me of every last ounce of joy, but I’ve already told you that while I was there, it was like I came into the intended version of myself. I begged until I felt a shift in my own definition.
At first I didn’t want to say it, like counting chickens before they hatch. I didn’t want to say I had been healed just in case the disease comes back, but now I am certain. I have been healed, enough to say it out loud. I have been healed of a darkness. I have been healed of an anxiety that has noosed around me for as long as I can remember. I have been given JOY, and it will never leave me.
I am not afraid of God anymore like they were long ago at Mount Sinai, like when Moses trembled in the blazing light of God. Mount Sinai had formed from a bursting upward rub of hot ground, and it was indeed so holy that even if an idiot ass leaned against it, it would die.
Things are shaking. Things may indeed be burning down. It has us talking about the reason for this life, all these kingdoms shaking down around us, about this culture and the tired church machine. We are exiles. We are being dismantled with complete faith that rebuilding comes.
But we no longer go to Mount Sinai. Now is a new thing. Now we go to the Mountain of Zion – in the kind of awe that opens eyes to see wing on wing on wing, a myriad of angels. I come to an assembly (we of every land) a church beautiful with her veil pulled way back, shining. Mount-Zion fear is fear that sees a people in a fire, but the people aren’t consumed. Mount Zion fear is a mind that can’t understand its own joy.