More and more I want to see Him. I want His beauty in my life, His Spirit, His strength. I want to go home. Life – ah that battlefield - we run but are constantly beaten down, we fall, we forget, we fear. We wonder how in this place we are supposed to live? It’s gruesome and our enemies swarm and are so thick it’s hard to imagine how we can survive. Pain. Fear. Screams. It’s dark and the clash and heat of battle, the disgusting smells, the blood, the dirt, the sweat and weariness is thick. There are many fallen. So we begin to slack, begin to doubt, and unbelief in the ability of our Source of strength makes us weak. This weakening of the Pilgrim is noticed by our enemy. They gather the weary into cradles and rock us. Lull us, deaden us. Why all this apathy? Why can’t I feel Him close? Why don’t I trust Him more? Do you ever wonder that? I get frustrated because I notice it in myself. My heart is deadened and I can tell. But then something – a voice or a warning call sounds and startles us. ‘Run, Pilgrim,’ it says. ‘Flee while you can’. So we do. We leave our cradle and run. We fall again and feel the enemy at our heels shooting their fiery darts and when we are at the end of our strength there is something we discover – arms. Breathing. Someone’s shield blocking the fire hurdled towards our body. We are being carried. We close our eyes to the confusion and when we open them again we see that He has led us to a table spread with His own provision in the middle of the screams and smoke, the combat and defeat, the cries of pain, the blood, the torment, agony, the swelling numbers of enemy. He sits with us still holding us in His arms and speaks. He says ‘Peace. Peace, Pilgrim.‘ We show Him our wounds and wonder ‘God how can you love me when I fall again and again? Why don’t you find some strong soldier who will get the job done like you want? My God, I’m disfigured, I sin over and over – I let the enemy lull me asleep, I was in their camp – God why, why, why do you love me?’ But He takes our marred face in His hands and looks us in the eye. Even our scars are beautiful to Him. He opens His hands and shows us His own. ‘For you, my love. For you. Pilgrim, Lift up your eyes. I have raised my standard and from the four corners of the earth I am gathering my people. Look for my armies, look for me. I am coming, Pilgrim. I am coming.’ He hands us our banner and we run. We run for Him. We run knowing that He is getting ready to take us away. We run knowing this cursed place full of the screams and groans of sin is not our home. We run knowing He is coming. Even so, Lord, come quickly.
