-- Micah 6:8

A key word there ^^ is with. We are called to act justly, love mercy and walk humbly with Him. Doing what He does... being like Him... the just, merciful and humble God. We have to abide in the vine... for we can do nothing without Him (John 15:4-5). We have no good apart from Him (Psalm 16:2).

He is the One who has His throne founded on righteousness and justice (Psalms 89:14, 97:2). He is the God who is slow to anger (Exodus 34:5... among others... go Biblegateway 'slow to anger')... and does not stay angry forever but delights to show mercy (Micah 7:18)!! The King of glory who laid aside His glory to come and show us what love is (Psalm 24:8, Philippians 2:6-11, 1 John 3:16)... oh, the humility!

... and when I see Him I'll be like Him (1 John 3:2)... so oh, that my eyes would be opened to see Him as He is... that I would act justly, love mercy and walk humbly with my God.

And then we sing a psalm.  This is a psalm of praise and triumph and victory.  It is not a psalm of peace - in it, we pray for the praises of God in [our] throat[s] and for a two-edged sword in [our] hand[s].  We sing this rather vicious psalm, praising God, and asking to wreak vengeance on our enemies, to bring them to justice.  We pray for kings to be chained up, for yet more death and destruction.  Hooray, kids!  It's Two-Edged Sword Day!  Let's par-TAY!

Somehow, then, Paul manages to stymie us in the passage from the letter to the Romans.  (Okay, I'm frequently stymied by Paul, but that's beside the point.)  In this passage, Paul reminds us of the summary Jesus made of "all the Law and the Prophets" - love your neighbor as yourself.  Of course, in reminding us of this summary, Paul reminds us who our neighbor is... and that is absolutely everyone.  Jesus tells us to love our enemies.  So those Egyptians in Exodus, weeping as they cradle their children in their arms?  They are our neighbors.  Those kings and lords in the psalm, all those nations and peoples?  Yeah, they are our neighbors, too.  All these people, whose deaths we celebrate with great festivals - these people upon whom  we're asking for God's justice and vengeance - they are our neighbors.  And Jesus has commanded us to love them.

This is making me a bit uncomfortable right now.

I'm not very good at loving my neighbors.  I'm far more likely to be the person in the psalm, singing to God while I leap about my house with a sword, wanting to wreak vengeance on the boss who gave me a bad review or the lady who was so rude to me in line at the grocery store or the neighbor whose garbage blew into my yard or the kids who yet again failed to clean their rooms and take out the garbage.  And these are the people I know and like - we haven't even gotten to the enemies yet!

Finally we get to the gospel, in which Jesus gives us specific instructions on living in community and dealing with those who hurt us, and at the end, he gives us a rather scary responsibility.  Whatever you bind on earth, Jesus tells us, will be bound in Heaven. I've already admitted to being rather terrible at this loving my neighbor business - do I really want to be responsible for binding another person with his or her wrongs?  Of course, Jesus gives us the reverse as well: whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in Heaven.  So the hurts I forgive, the hurts I can let go of, God will let go of them.  That's somewhat reassuring, but I'm at least as bad at forgiveness as I am at love.  I hope that God looses the things that I want to forgive or intend to forgive, the things I ask God to help me let go of - and I think that this is what Jesus intends.  If I want to forgive, then I've loosed the other person; I just haven't untied the knot within myself.

So we've gotten all these commandments and rules, and I'll bet that most people are about as fond of being handed a sheet of commandments as I am... and that would be not at all.  This may be why God sent Jesus, to help us sum up all those hundreds and hundreds of rules in the Old Testament into one basic rule of thumb: love your neighbor.  We humans can make an art form out of legalism, because following commandments is a lot easier than loving neighbors.  When we follow commandments, we don't have to take responsibility.  I'm just doing what the Lord told me to do! But when we're given the task of loving our neighbor, well, then we have to make hard choices and accept responsibility for them.  We don't get to be kids any more, pointing to our parents who handed down the rules; no, we have to be grown-ups.

Sometimes, I hate being a grown-up, you know?  Simply following rules would be so much easier!  But that's not what God wants for us.  God wants us to choose God, to choose to love, to choose to act in loving ways.  God wants us to wake up from the dream of childhood, into the light of adulthood and relationship.  God wants us to lay aside the things of the nighttime, to pick up the armor of light.

Put on the armor of light.

Close your eyes and let those words soak in for a moment.  It's okay, I'll still be here waiting for you.

Lay aside the works of darkness,
and put on the armor of light.

What is the armor of light?  Imagine yourself for a moment.  You are standing in the middle of an empty room.  The room is dark, but you know that the morning will dawn soon.  To prepare yourself for the daytime, you want to put on the armor of light.  You reach down to the floor, and a pool of light appears around your feet.  You touch the light, and you find that it is tangible, so you pull it up your legs, over your stomach and chest, up to your arms.  You reach inside with your hands, and you find sleeves of light.  As you allow the light to settle over your body, you find it warm and comforting.  You look down at your arms, and they sparkle and twinkle in the room.  You are clothed in light, in warmth, in peace.

Inside this armor of light, you know that your enemies cannot hurt you.  You are a child of the Living God, made to be unique and marvelous and perfect.  You bear an armor of love, which admits only things of the Light through to your body,  which repels works of darkness.  You are surrounded, wrapped up, cocooned in God's light and love.

You see through the window in front of you that the sun is beginning to rise.  As the golden light of the sun fills the room around you, the twinkling, sparkling armor on your body begins to fade.  You know that it is still there, because you can still feel the warm tingle on your skin, but in the light of the sun, the armor of light disappears.  And you know, as you wake to face this new day, that God has equipped you to love your neighbor, to forgive your enemies and your friends.

I guess we need this armor of light sometimes, when we're faced with readings like the ones for Sunday.  And we need it sometimes to deal with our neighbors, so that we can act in love, rather than with the two-edged sword.  We need the armor of light to help us to loose things on earth, so that they can be loosed in heaven.  We need the armor of light to survive those long nights when we huddle in the darkness, praying for the blood on the door to save us from the terrible plague that we know is coming.  We need the armor of light when we hide in the upstairs room, terrified that those who killed our teacher and savior is coming to arrest and crucify us next.  We need the armor of light when we find that we have been blind all along, when the scales fall from our eyes.

And sometimes, we need the armor of light when we sit at home alone - afraid of mounting debts, perhaps, or of illness, or of death, or of being lonely forever, or of never being free from our burdens - we need that love to surround our bodies, to bring warmth and comfort to our hearts, to soothe our thoughts and remind us that we are cherished.

The blood of Jesus is on our doors, my sisters and brothers.  God will not kill us in the night.  God will not kill anyone in the night, ever again.  The two-edged sword has been sheathed, because now we all can wear God's armor, the armor of light.

Grant us, O Lord, to trust in you with all our hearts;
for, as you always resist the proud who confide in their own strength,
so you never forsake those who make their boast of your mercy;
through Jesus Christ our Lord,
who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God,
now and for ever.

Amen.
Hallelujah!

Two Levites get married. They have a son. The mother, with the help of her daughter, hatches a plan to save this son from the Egyptian slaughter of male Hebrew babies.

This son is adopted by an Egyptian Princess. He is given the name of Moses and is raised in her household under the care of his biological mother as a nursemaid. He grows to a man.

Seeing a fellow Hebrew beaten by an Egyptian, the adult Moses kills the Egyptian and flees for his life.

After having fled he comes across some young Midianite women whom he assists. He later meets their father. He then marries one of the girls and has a son.

The chapter ends with these words:

"During that long period, the king of Egypt died. The Israelites groaned in their slavery and cried out, and their cry for help because of their slavery went up to God. God heard their groaning and he remembered his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob. So God looked on the Israelites and was concerned about them."

God is about to do something great and terrible. At this point he has already telegraphed what he is doing. This is found in the very name "Moses."

"Moses" sounds like the Hebrew word for "draw out." This is a pun on Moses having been drawn from his basket in the water. It is also a parable for what happens to Moses in chapter 2 and then for what God does to and through Moses and the Israelites throughout the Exodus.

All kinds of things come out of Moses in chapter 2: anger, rage, murder, fear, flight, his desire for justice--both for the Israelite being beaten and for the Midianite women at the well.

But as the story of Exodus continues in the following chapters, we will begin to see God draw greater things out of Moses--even as Moses draws the Israelites out of Egypt and then out of their old beliefs about what a "god" looks like.

This is the beginning of a journey that changed the world forever.

And speaking of journeys...I and the group of guys I do life with are about to begin a new study on the book of Exodus. I am excited for this. I am excited to see what God will do in our lives and in our collective journey together.

Today I read Exodus chapter 1. In it, God begins a new thing in the lives of the Israelites. The Egyptians have forgotten Joseph. They have begun to see Israel as a threat. How often in our life are we forced to grow through conflict that is not of our choosing? This was the case with the Israelites. It has been the case in my life as well.

One thought that prevails upon me after reading Exodus 1 this time around is just how political the backdrop of the entire story is. Here in the U.S. we are in a political season. I am reminded daily of how much politicians try to make claims--either to be the voice of God (as with our current President's messianic delusions) or how in how they try to usurp the decisions that rightfully belong to God as in Pharoah's case.

There is a line I love in Exodus 1: "The midwives, however, feared God and did not do what the King of Egypt told them to do."

I am often depressed by the actions and attitudes of my fellow Americans and most especially by those of my countrymen who claim Christ as their Savior. America was meant to be a nation of laws and not men. Christianity, at its core, is a call to serve another Kingdom entirely than the ones of this world. Yet somehow, we get wrapped up in patriotism and ideology to the point that we allow politicians to influence us far more than they should.

Don't get me wrong, I believe politics has its place. Together, we can do what we cannot do by ourselves as individuals.

Yet the call of a greater kingdom supercedes all this.

Too many people run around whining that America has lost or forgotten God. I beg to differ. America has, by and large, simply chosen an easier God to follow than the Holy One of Israel. We have chosen the holy one of america. A far, far, different god.

When we reverence the true God to the point that we actually question those who claim to speak in his name, when we care more about people and less about divisive rhetoric, then we will have begun the journey towards the true God once again. The rest is pointless talk.

He is waiting to do a new thing. We only need to join him.

BRAND NEW MAN

KEY VERSES - GALATIANS 2:20 (NAS)

20 I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself up for me.

HEAD (Revelation - what I need to know about this truth)

In looking at this verse, what really stands out to me is the fact that when Jesus died on the cross, He was actually representing me; I should have been on that cross.  That punishment was for me, but He took my place.  When Christ gave His life and died on the cross, it was my sin, my trespass, my rebellion, my treason that put him on that cross.  He bore the full brunt of God’s wrath against sin by taking my place.

In Paul’s writings to the Galatians, he wants to make sure that they understand that they are crucified - present tense. They were crucified in the past, but they were living their lives during that time as though they had died.  That truth is just as real for us today.  The rest of the verse goes on to say that it is no longer we who live, but Christ who lives in us.  Paul had a conscious awareness that Christ lived in him, that the life he was living was because of the very life that God had given to him through the sacrifice of Jesus.  I have now come to realize that the life that I live, I live because of the faith that He gave me.  As it explains in Ephesians 2, I am saved by grace through faith; this is not because of me or my efforts, so I cannot boast about this. It is not an act of my doing that causes me to be right with God.  What causes me to be right with God is me believing what God did for me. It is me counting that act of His sacrifice as having been done for myself.

The revelation of what we need to know about this truth is that the day that you gave your heart and life to Jesus, you died.  Now, God didn’t just leave you dead.  He said that the life that you now live, you live by faith in the Son of God who loved you and delivered Himself for you. You and I now live by the faith of the Son of God.  Jesus trusted God to raise Him from the dead to bring justification, and it would be just as though He’d never sinned because He didn’t; however, He took my place.  That has been given to me.  All those who have accepted Jesus as Lord and Savior have died, been buried, and now have risen again.  They have been made a new creature in Christ, which is the truth based on the Word of God. 

HEART (Emotion - what I need to feel about this truth)

The emotional part of knowing this is that sin, according to Romans 6, no longer has dominion over me because the man that I was no longer exists.   

I still look the same in my physical body, but the reality as taught in the Word of God is that I died on a certain date and at a certain time when I said “yes” to Jesus. The truth of that is what keeps me - in my mind and in my thinking - free from the attack of the enemy when he comes and says I’m a lousy sinner or I don’t measure up or any of those types of thoughts.  I know that, by the truth of God’s Word and what I have experienced in my heart through saying “yes” to him, it is not true.   

Now what do I need to do about this truth?  I need to begin act like the new creature that I am in Christ.  I need to begin to act out of the love God has for me and display it in a practical way.  When we read the Gospels, we see how Jesus related to people when He was here.  He never put anyone out; he always brought people in. The people who really struggled with Him the most were the religious people, the ones who had all the rules and regulations and followed the law.  They were trying to be justified, not by faith, but by keeping the law.  But then Jesus came, bringing the revelation that it doesn’t matter what we do; rather, it’s who we are on the inside.  The law says that if sin is even in my heart to do, then I have already broken the law. In Exodus 20, we see God giving the Ten Commandments; the tenth one is “Thou shalt not covet.” That means “thou shalt not even want to” and so, now, God is dealing with my even wanting to.  I’m so grateful that He deals with the heart of the matter in that I have died, and my life is now hidden in God.  The life that I now live, I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave Himself for me.  

WHO (Illustration - where this truth has been seen)

In the film, At First Sight, Virgil's first experiences with sight were confusing. He was able to make out colors and movements, but arranging them into a coherent picture was more difficult. Over time, he learned to identify various objects, but his habits and behaviors were still those of a blind man. At one point his physician, Dr. Sacks, asserts, "One must die as a blind person to be born again as a seeing person. It is the interim, the limbo . . . that is so terrible." To truly see Jesus and His truth means more than observing what He did or said. It means a change of identity.

HANDS (Application - what I need to do with this truth)

Look out over the landscape of your life and begin to apply the new creation truths about who you are to every situation you encounter. You are the righteousness of God in Christ, and greater is He who is in you than he that is in the world!  Because of this truth, we do have answers for most situations in life.  However, if, on some occasions, we don’t, we know we have the wisdom of God made available to us.  It is such an awesome thing!

DIG DEEPER:

Ephesians 2:8-10

I am a Southern Baptist. I am also a young adult (23 to be exact). These two things alone put me in a declining population segment in American Christianity. Following this past years Southern Baptist Convention in Indianapolis the cat was officially out of the bag: the SBC is getting older (for discussion of this click here). Simply put, more and more young people are leaving Southern Baptist churches (as well as most other denominations in America) and the end result is that our congregations are getting overloaded with the grey-haired guys in three piece suits who sit in the front row and still use a King James Version of the Bible. Needless to say this is not a good trend.

Just today there is a book coming out by Lifeway Research director Thom Rainer entitled Essential Church? which focuses on dealing with the question, Why do so many young adults (18 to 22) leave the church, and what will it take to bring them back? I have a copy already sitting in front of me, though as yet I have not begun to read it. I do, however, have my own opinion on something that can be done to alleviate this problem.

Now, being 23 and not 53 I am not going to sit here and tell the middle-aged bulk of the congregation in our SBC churches what to do (though I think I may have insight, I don't feel it appropriate to just throw them under the bus). Instead, the people I want to address are the target age group (18-22 year olds) as well as my population of young adults (23-35 years, roughly).

What is the cry that we hear coming up from the 18-35 year old "emerging" generations? Paint it any number of ways, what it basically boils down to is "I don't like the way my church does things." So, what are we doing about it? We're dropping out of those churches and either roaming around on our own vague spiritual journey or starting new "avant-garde" churches which stick a thumb in the eye of our more traditional, orthodox roots.

Yet, why did we leave our original church in the first place? Did they teach a theology we disagreed with? Was the music boring? Did their modernist ecclesiology offend our superior post-modern sensibilities? The first question I think we need to ask is, What is a sufficient reason for leaving a fellowship? From where I stand there seems to be a lot of juvenile arrogance which comes into play when we assert our psuedo-justified reasons for dropping out of the congregation we grew up in.

But what is it that makes this arrogant? It is because we are in effect saying "I know a better way to do it." That's the rub. We are unhappy with our churches because they are unappealing to us and because we think we could do it better. This then leads to a youth exodus from traditional churches and a massive influx of new emerging congregations. Yet what do these look like? The emerging churches are composed of young (typically white, but that's another post) believers who are experimenting with doing church their own way. And the traditional churches they left? They continue doing business as usual only without as many youth and young adult members as they had before.

So, we are left with this general picture: an emerging church with all youth and no experienced senior leadership and a traditional church with no vibrant, idea-filled young underbelly. The end result from this is that our traditional churches get stuck in their ways, moving further and further into legalism and ritual instead of authentic worship, and the emerging churches spin-off with all types of liberal theologies which are more of reactions to felt injustices and less of seasoned observations from a lifelong pursuit of the Truth in God's Word. This is not good on either end.

Then what is the solution I propose? Simply this. Young adults, if you don't like the way your church is being run and you have a biblical conviction to this extent, do something about it in your church! (This goes particularly for SBC members who have a congregational polity). What does this something look like? It looks like going to church meetings, working to rise up in leadership and making your voice heard.

But, you object, the old people won't listen to me? Well of course they won't. Look at Timothy in Ephesus. He was put in leadership by Paul as a young man and all of the older church members looked down on him, saying he was too young and disavowing the things he said because they thought he was rash and immature. But what does Paul tell him? He says, strap it up, live the way you know to live from Scripture, and go out there and show them what it really looks like to serve Christ (1 Timothy 4.12). Now of course, this doesn't mean to disrespect people (1 Timothy 5.1-2), but what it does mean is to show them that when it comes to making a difference in the kingdom of God, there is no age requirement, only a passion and righteousness of life lived.

If as young adults we are dissatisfied with our church we have to step up and step into leadership in the congregation. And if the old guys on the deacon board refuse to pass the baton of leadership to you, you have to wrestle it from their hands. It is up to those generations to fix any flaws they may have in their service of the Lord in the local church, but what we need to do is not sit back and blast their failings, but instead aggressively pursue change. The church is meant to contain a spectrum of ages. Older men and women have as much to give to the younger people as the younger ones have to give to them. If either population is missing in a church then it will not be able to function completely as God intended it to.

I know this is hard. I understand that it is easier to just go off and start your own church instead of going through the frustrations of struggling for a leadership voice. But at the end of the day, God desires for us to take that torch from the older generations, using it to light the church for many more years to come, and not just letting it die out with them. To steal from a couple of youths who are vocal about this cause as well, we must buckle down and realize that God will be most glorified when we "do hard things."

When I was a Roman Catholic, and was convinced that my serving was through becoming a sister in the Dominican order, one of my favorite, no, not one of, but my favorite hymn was one called "Here I am Lord." I think there are a couple that go by that name, but this one went something like, "here I am Lord, I have heard you calling in the night. If you call me, I will follow, I will lead your people. . . ." or something to that effect. It was the only hymn that would drive me directly to tears, for I felt that in offering myself to the convent I was in effect following.

The gospel passage that speaks of giving away all that one has and following Jesus, was and is connected to that hymn to me. It broadsided me I guess you could say the first time I remember actually reading it as a Christian. It frightened me, and at the same time compelled me to look deeply at my life and where I was going.

If you read the bible often, you will no doubt realize that throughout the Old Testament particularly, when God spoke directly to humans, they always, always responded with "Here I am Lord." I always thought it a bit funny, given that God clearly knew where they were, a simple, "Yes?" would have been sufficient. But it seems the writers who wrote of these encounters with God always saw a sense in the recipient of readiness for service that the phrase seems also to convey.

In the OT reading today, Moses responds to God's call of him from the burning bush with "here I am, Lord." Oh indeed I suspect that at least initially Moses wished he hadn't since God had a great deal in store for Moses, much of which he wanted no part of.  Mostly Moses felt inadequate to the tasks set before him. Yet, of course, God supplies us with what we need, when we need it. According to a Midrash comment about Moses and the parting of the Red Sea, the Midrash writer says that God did not part the sea when Moses raised his staff. No, not until Moses, in faith stepped forward did he do that. (I am stealing shamelessly from our Priest, Barbara today, who taught us this.)

And in the Gospel reading from Matthew today, Jesus tells us that we must lose our lives to save them. To become his follower, we must take up our cross and follow.  And it seems to me the message is clear. God will be there to both sustain our journey and will provide us what we need when we need it. All else may be quite mystery to us. We may know almost no details, we may not know the purpose nor the end. We need only have that faith that sustains and upholds and provides as needed to continue. The cross is the fearless going forth in the following, not having any assurance as to the destination or the means by which it will be attained. And of course, it also means it may be done against the good wishes of many or most of our friends, family or even strangers.

Therein of course lies the rub. Just how do we discern when we are following the call of God, and when are we merely allowing our own preferences to slyly dictate a subconsciously chosen path? I confess I have no real clue. I can say easily that it is a intuitive thing, a deep feeling, one that seems, feels, right. But truthfully, "entering the convent" seemed the intuitively right thing to do at the time.  Similarly, moving from Roman Catholicism to Anglican Episcopalianism seems the right thing to do as well right now.

I have turned this over a bit in my head lately and while I don't have clear unrefutable answers, I think I many have a clue or two. I came from no faith at all, and with exposure pretty much only to Roman Catholicism as a child. It defined my concept of church. I don't think it is possible that I would have entered the arena of "church" unless it had been Roman Catholic. So I can but think that God accepted me where I was and saw this as a beginning.

Now with a more mature outlook, having spend years trying to reconcile my faith, my Church, and my deeply abiding personal views about a whole range of social issues, I have come to see that I must release that "childish" adoption for a more mature one.

Now I in no way claim that adherence to the Roman faith is childish. But my reasons for adhering to it were in a sense based on childish misunderstanding of what constituted "Church" in the first instance. I have no bad feelings against the Roman Catholic faith, none whatsoever really. I just realize that is not for me. It does not fit my mind and heart. And a religion should do that it seems to me. And no I don't mean that churches should be "feel good" places either. But I do mean that we, each of us, is like a puzzle piece looking for our place in the picture.

We must, it seems to me, find a place where doctrine, ritual and congregation intersect in a mutually rational way for us. I met with the assistant rector of my church last week. She said to me, that as much as she worked for interfaith dialogue, we put too much emphasis on establishing agreement on all kinds of doctrinal issues. There is nothing so very wrong about envisioning God and/or Jesus in multiple ways. What is important is that we respond to the call of service to our neighbor. That should come first, and in that I think she is very right.

Rome spends a lot of time working, so they tell me, to collect all of us back into the fold. I suspect it will never happen. And I suspect God is quite happy about the arrangements we have now. More than likely, not a single one of us with our massive or not so massive denominations behind us, is totally right. We each bring threads of "getting God" to the table. The sad thing is that instead of creating a tapestry, we try to get everyone to agree to dye all the threads the same color.

So I see myself mostly as just another fellow traveler, climbing the mountain, meeting lots of different folks along the way. Some crossing my path, some traveling with me, others along a parallel or angled path to mine. Some no doubt are confusedly backtracking.  I have, at least for now, found a community of fellow travelers who seem to see the world as I see, and who see God's call the way I do. So I'm not traveling alone right now.  I'm in fact having a joyous time. God seems closer than he has in a very long time for me.

While I could say, that this is me now, and that five, ten years from now, I might be some place else, I just don't know. I tend to think my present Episcopal Church is broad enough, wherein I can lie with ease for all my years to come. I guess, it seems a church which continually calls itself to examine and re-examine itself. And that to me is essential. Times change, and God has new and previously unknown challenges for us.

In the end, I'm not sure that there is more that any of us can do than our best. I am here, Lord. I am doing my best, trying to discern your will, trying to uphold your will, and please you. Here I am Lord.

We have attractions here in Arkansas–the alligator farm and IQ Zoo in Hot Springs are age-old favorites that require periodic pilgrimages. I guess they are still open.  You may not know that in Ravendon, Arkansas there is a large statue of a Raven.  I want to go see it once, but “nevermore.” But my favorite roadside attraction has to be the "Christ of the Ozarks," in Eureka Springs. There you will find a concrete Jesus big enough to hold a school bus in his hand, at least that's what the sign used to say. They probably ought change it to read a Branson tour bus to better relate to the masses. I believe that the statue is located on what they call "transfiguration mountain." Anyway, you can see him for miles. He is a little stiff, and could use some paint, although a stark white Jesus is probably apropos in that part of the state. I hear that a new statue in Fayetteville will be even bigger at Razorback Stadium, called "the Frank of the Ozarks." Just kidding.

If you take a road trip to Amarillo, Texas, you will find the Texas windbreaker; several Classic Cadillacs buried in the ground half-way. Dianna wants one of these cars–no seriously, she wants them buried all the way in the ground. The only thing wrong with burying these cars is they needed deeper holes.  But this old favorite is now a second place attraction in Amarillo, compared to "the world's largest cross," which is a metal contraption that can be seen for miles. It along with the Great Wall of China can be seen from outer space is my guess. Judging by the numbers of people that pulled off the freeway, it is a popular attraction.  Either that or folks just need a break from the monotonous I-40. Indeed, religious roadside attractions seem to be growing in number. In our own fair city, (I like to call it church wars) there is a large, freeway church- monstrosity that built a larger building so that they might again claim the highest steeple in Arkansas honor. For a while they lost that title of the highest steeple because church/monstrosity number two on the way to Benton has eclipsed them. I think that the big Baptist Church on the hill has to have the highest steeple as they definitely aren’t hiding anything under a bushel as you can see the doggone thing all over west Little Rock.  The highest church steeple in America by the way is on a Baptist Church in Birmingham Alabama.  But religious-type attractions are popular, so I expect more to spring up. These are monuments to human accomplishment, to be sure, and are built at great expense. I suppose they are built to be big monuments to a big faith in God.

I have seen some strange sights while traveling, some very odd curiosities that grabbed my attention, but in our lectionary text this morning we find what surely was one strange sight-- the renowned burning bush that led to the call of Moses.   Renowned theologian Robert McAfee Brown gives us a little background to our story:

Moses is in a tough spot. Having grown up in Egypt, he has had to flee across the border to Midian, in order to escape from the long arm of "Cairo’s finest," the police, galvanized in his speedy departure by well-founded rumors that he has murdered an Egyptian guard. An "All Points Alert" has been circulated by the Egyptian F. B. I., offering a handsome reward to whoever tips off the authorities as to Moses’ whereabouts. However, since there are no extradition laws between Midian and Egypt, Moses is gradually able to fade into the Midian woodwork, marry a Midian woman, and start to rebuild his life. And then, just when things have wound down and he can begin to relax, the God whom Moses supposed he had left behind in Egypt, puts in a reappearance. The voice comes out of a bush in the desert that is burning, but not burning up. However, dealing with that phenomenon is child’s play compared to dealing with the words the voice utters from that desert inferno. (Robert McAfee Brown “Our Uneasy Relationship to God” Nov. 1989)

          So the call of Moses comes in dramatic fashion, and there are many lessons we could extract from this story.  I think the obvious lesson is significant, namely that God heard the cries of his people.  The children of Israel had been in slavery for four hundred years and had felt the harshness and cruelty of their Egyptian taskmasters.  Surely their existence was only marginally better than their beasts of burden. Their lives were worthless and they must have thought that they would have been better off dead.  As the story goes their pleas did not fall on deaf ears, God decided to do something about it. That is Good News!  But I have always wondered why it took God so long.  Generation after generation had come and gone, all desperately hopeless, all dreaming of a deliverer, all wondering if this is the lot of a people chosen by Yahweh.  They must have felt like it would have been better if God had chosen someone else.  Sure God whipped the Egyptians in the end, but tell that to all those who live out their lives and the lives of their kids and grandkids and great, great, great, grandkids who saw nothing but heartache and grief.  I mean 400 years, that would be like being in slavery from 1608 until now. That is as long as the Baptist movement has been in existence.  That is 168 years longer than our country is old.  That is a lot of crying that God evidently did not hear or perhaps even worse did not care to pay attention to.  That seems a little problematic and Yahweh comes off less than sympathetic.

          So what is the lesson here?  Is it that in the end things will work out OK, just have a little patience?  That is a popular message today with the rapture crowd.  Many of them basically say that the world is going to hell in a hand basket and God will finally have had enough and step in blow up the whole sorry mess, except of course for the people who can recite the formula who will not only be spared from all the nastiness, but will be unbelievably rewarded over-the-top for leaving the world in shambles and largely unchanged.  They do of course want as many as possible to be spared, but offer no evidence of God hearing the cries of a dying planet in the here and now.  He will simply someday say enough is enough and blow the place to smithereens.

          Well, maybe we tend to press the details of the story too far and the point is really that God does hear the afflictions of his people.  Maybe it seems to take forever to find God working in our situation, in the end is always faithful to do so.  I find this explanation lacking as well.  It worked out swell for those who were alive when Moses came along, but what about all those who hurt all those years before Moses was on the scene?  It would be sort of God has heard your prayers and cries, and will do something, but it will not be in your lifetime, or your kid’s lifetime, or their kid’s lifetime, but hey, God will get around to it.  I think you can see that would not make very many left behind people very happy.

          Truly we wonder sometimes if God hears our cries. We wonder if God is aware of our plight and if he intends to do anything about it.  We say that God always answers prayers; we just don’t always see it.  I guess I can buy that, but for heaven’s sake I would like a little more clarity in things that are so darn painful.  I have seen people pray and pray and pray for God’s intervention to no obvious avail.  I have seen people struggle for years just for a glimmer of light in trying to figure out where God figured into their situation.  And many a time their cries seemingly have gone unnoticed. 

I am a realist and I understand that it is our lot to get sick and die in life, and it really doesn’t matter if you are nine or 90 it will always seem a little raw and untimely.  It is tragic to die young, but losing a spouse of 50 or more years is no picnic either.  But just once, I would like to pray and see God do something miraculous.  My young 29 year old friend in Memphis has had every person in the buckle of the Bible Belt praying (me included) for a cure for her cancer and it has not happened.  I laid face down flat on the floor along with a bunch of equally serious folk to pray for her.  She is still alive, but she has suffered greatly.  She has tumors up and down her spine now and is in great pain.  But the worse part is for a couple of months she has thrown up constantly, they cannot seem to stop it.  She is on her last chance chemo, it is one that they discontinued earlier but are giving it one more go.  A lesser person, and that would be most of us, would have rightly given up long ago. Yet her faith remains strong.  But from where I sit it is a helluva existence for a beautiful 29 year old lady.  Why doesn’t God do something? Why doesn’t God hear our cries?

          In 1981, a famous Lutheran pastor and historian was told that his wife had serious cancer and would not survive.  His doctor told him that if he loved his wife he should consider cancelling 1981, to devote his time with her last days. He spent many nights up with her, prayed many prayers as his faith was great.  But she died anyway.  Out of his own discontent he then wrote some reflections on his grief published in 1983 that is a must read for anyone who has wondered why their cries to God have gone unnoticed.  Martin E. Marty’s A Cry of Absence: Reflections for the Winter of the Heart describes and validates the Christian path that winds through the darker phases of life’s journey when the seemingly constant call is that the appropriate response for the Christian is to be sunny, cheerful and aglow in the bounteous goodness and joy of the Lord.  Marty writes. “The message in this world of spiritual best-sellers and large audiences is consistent: “Follow me, follow my prescription, think the right thoughts, and all the chill will disappear. Joy comes to those who prosper in faith.” Marty reminds us that life does not always turn out well. Relationships do not always mend, the cancer is not always healed, and one’s spiritual weather forecast is not always sunny and warm. Marty notes that, “The sunny friend and the summery gathering are of little help to many seekers. If such are still to have sufficient hope to inspire an address to the Absence, a quieting of the furious wintery wind, where do they turn?”  This is the central question that Marty’s book addresses.  We all go through a winter in our spirituality where God just does not seem to be around anywhere.  Our prayers just don’t seem to get past the ceiling.  And we are as cold and barren as a stark winter landscape.

          But Marty also points out that things become clearer in the winter.  That you see the structure of the tree only when the leaves are gone, and you can see the landscape better when the grasses are out of the way.  And this understanding gives us perspective when spring arrives in our lives, and spring always arrives.  It is easy then to see God, in the spring. But we all must have some winter.

          The world is full of poor and oppressed peoples, people who have surely cried to God for relief, and in many cases people who tenaciously cling to their faith even though for all practical purposes their cries fall on deaf ears.  Most of us who have been alive on planet earth long enough are realistic enough to know that this is so.  So where does that leave this God of ours, the one who hears our cries, say every 400 years or so?

          I would suggest this morning that God had indeed heard the cries of the Israelites, and maybe the delay was in the fact that there was no Moses to do God’s bidding.  I think in our attempts to pay homage to Yahweh we overlook this part of the story-- that it is up to us.  That we are God’s instruments in the world and as such we must respond to the poor and oppressed peoples everywhere.  For God heard their cries and a man named Moses finally stepped up to the plate and responded to God’s call.  Now Moses was reluctant, he had all kinds of excuses.  Five of them are detailed here, and God said “no problem I can take care of that one and in fact I can handle all of them.  I am after all God Almighty.”  Moses had several limitations, in fact he stuttered, he was not eloquent of speech, he had a price on his head in Egypt, he was happy and content in Midian where he had married and made a good living for himself.  It was not his fight and he was too weak compared to mighty Pharaoh.  But what made God mad was when Moses simply had the audacity to say to the Almighty, send someone else. 

You see, God had him covered.  He could cover all his inability, but he could do nothing with his unavailability.  I suspect that if Moses had not come through, there might have been another 400 years of suffering in Egypt.  But in the end, Moses delivered big-time.  And the shepherd’s crook became the rod of God.

          So I ask you this morning, are you uncomfortable with an image of a God who can only accomplish his purposes through the cooperation of frail human instruments?  You might as well get comfortable, because that is the essence of the Bible.  We seldom if ever see God sending a bolt of lighting, or directing history from afar, but instead changing lives through those committed to his service.  It just does not get done any other way. The Story of God is an immensely human story.  Sorry if that changes your wholly other view of God, but it is so. It is as Brown says:

It is not surprising that this story has emerged as one of the basic Biblical resources of our sisters and brothers in the Third World, for whom the rallying cry of the whole story, and the whole Bible, and the whole gospel is...liberation. Freedom. Which means throwing off the chains, the shackles. Which means disagreeing with the leaders of your nation. Which means saying "no" to Pharaoh, the epitome of injustice, because you have to say "yes" to a God who is the epitome of justice, and who won’t put up with Pharaoh’s injustice, and tells you that it is your fight as well as God’s fight. So, keeping the imagery of the story, we have to reflect on what it means to serve in Pharaoh’s court, which is where we are located, a court that supports and sanctions many things God surely calls us to challenge. (Brown)

And that reality is a bitter pill to swallow for those of us who like our God to do battle for us.  Friends, whatever there is that needs to be done by God will not get done unless we answer his call.  It really is that pure and simple.  If we do not step up to the plate then there will surely be cries that are unheard, sometimes for an enormous periods of time.  We have to not only do a bunch of crying to change the world, we have to do a bunch of hearing.  We must hear the voice of God; we must find that we indeed are the answer that the world needs. It takes more than prayer, you can cry your fool head off.  What changes the world are people who have taken off their shoes because they were on Holy ground and were move by the God of all compassion.

Everywhere you look this morning my friends, lies an opportunity.  If we will just hear the call of God.  And if you don’t know where to look, Elisabeth Barrett Browning reminds us that “every common bush is afire with God.  But only he who sees takes off his shoes, the rest just sit around and pluck blackberries.”  In other words, God is right here, under our nose.  God is calling you to make a difference in this world that is how God works.  Is some cry unanswered?  Then someone has not stepped up to the plate and has not heard Gods call.  Are there poor, oppressed, dispossessed, or captives whose cries go unheeded?  Are there those who are sick and dying, are there those struggling with addictions?  Are there people that you feel sorry for, people who need solutions or people who need hope?  Are there those people that you wish someone would help? Do you hear the call?  What is God telling you to do?  Sit back and wait forever, or to commit to going out and saving the world.  Well, don’t be ridiculous, you can’t save the world you say?  Sure you can.  History is replete with examples of the power of one, especially by those who have heard the call and took off their shoes.   You just have to turn aside and look.  Because Browning was right, every common bush is afire with God, we just don’t always have the sense enough to take off our shoes and answer the call of God.  But finding our burning bush is critical to the success of the Kingdom of God.  Because when you stand on Holy ground, your worldview will never be the same, and in the end you will be the one burning with the fire of God, without being consumed. Will you answer the call of God today? I hope so, because this I know: someone, somewhere, not too far from here is crying.  Amen.

The first two days of Hole in the Sky, however, are being held at the club level, at the local metal-lagoon Garage. Things are a bit more cramped and smaller, but the level of intimacy with the bands are priceless. When I realized that Exodus, surprisingly, were going to headline the Garage at thursday, there couldn't be a shred of doubt in my mind. I was going. Just getting the legendary thrashers in the line-up was a victory.

Thursday:

I entered the facilities to a barrage of brutal noise. As soon as I'd settled in with a beer in my hand, I lined up for the spectacle. Cephalic Carnage (6,5/10) was new to me, but I rather fancied their brand of brutal death metal. With prior knowledge, I reckon they easily would've climbed my scoresheet. My bad.

Next up was the former Roadrunner-crew 3 Inches of Blood (8/10). Their immediate appeal simply can't be denied. It's upbeat and fun, especially with their over-the-top shrieking vocal (resembling Rob Halford at his most castrato). 'Deadly Sinners' is the ultimate payoff and concludes their set. We even got to shake our heads a little as well.

It's time for Exodus (9,5/10) and the crowd gather in front of the stage. The band rips through their classics, fronted by the menacing Rob Duke. They crave total mayhem among the audience, and gets it, a little by little for each song. When the gig hits it's zenith with 'Toxic Waltz', the venue is on fire as moshpits break out. I even made full-contact with a hyperactive Frost of Satyricon. A triumph in all aspects, I only missed that final spark that would've made the place totally disintegrate. I will treasure this night.

Friday:

The first night at the Culture House USF, with some real treats at the bill. I was psyched to see one of the great new bands around, Municipal Waste (8/10). Their alcohol-fueled crossover thrash sits very well with my mindframe this evening, and happily, I'm not the only one that was excited about this. Vocalist Tony Foresta is shouting his frantic lyrics, doing some stagediving og feed the audience beer. It's great fun, and some of the songs are extremely short. And of course; a grandiose climax with 'Bangover' with the anthem 'Municipal Waste is gonna fuck you up!'

It was time to get serious again with the towering Behemoth (9/10). The poles does a great job with their extreme music, powering vocals and vicious speed. And Nergal is a charismatic front figure, and fire up the crowd with ease.  I have to admit that my knowledge of the band is limited, with only brief listening to the albums 'Demigod', 'The Apostacy' and 'Thelema'. But the band really won me over!

Meshuggah (10/10) were out next. Their technical and unpredicatble music is always exciting, and although I'd attended the band earlier, I was more than ready for the new stuff. It was even better than expected, and when the blistering 'Future Breed Machine' hits home, the crowd erupts. Absolute killer.

So for the main dish of the evening; Carcass (10/10). With such a load of material, it can't go wrong. I even ventured into the heart of the moshpit, so I became a sweaty mess afterwards. But very pleased indeed. The tunes of 'Necroticism' and 'Heartwork' was especially well received, but their range even included 'Keep on Rotting in the Free World' from 'Swansong'. The band seemed as vital as any, with a humorous Jeff Walker smalltalking between songs. Great outlook, awesome gig.

It was such a wonderful evening that the party simply had to go on. On my way to the after-party, I walked with Land Phil (of Municipal Wasted), and quizzed him on their musical references. If any of us had been anything remotely sober, I probably could have posted his answers here. I'm only able to recollect two words: 'D.R.I' and 'Nuclear Assault' (which sadly had to cancel).

Of course, the after-party lasted until 10 A.M, and there had to be consequences.

Saturday

I wake up in a somewhat confused state, and the clock is closing 9 P.M. I've spent about 300 bucks last night, and just want to rest. But the thought of missing out is pure torture, and I'm able to convince myself on going. Only too bad that I've wasted the opportunity to attend Gehenna, Nachtmystium, Primordial and Keep of kalessin. Oh woe me!

But I'll be damned if I'm going to sit out the reunion of At The Gates (9,5/10). The vibe is electric, and although I'm suffering under the heat, it's great to hear the classics of 'Slaughter of the Soul'. And they deliver the goods! They seem just as excited and grateful as us to be here, and praises the crowd time and time again. And how can you go wrong with 'Terminal Spirit Disease', 'Under a Serpent Sun', 'Cold' and 'Blinded by Fear'? A worthy climax of another great festival!

All photos courtesy of Christian Misje.

Aquí les dejo la mega portada del nuevo trabajo de los pioneros del thrash metal Exodus, "Let there be blood" contiene las regrabaciones de los temas del clásico "Bonded by blood" el álbum debut de la banda en Combat Records y uno de los discos de thrash mas importantes e influyentes en la historia de este subgénero del metal.

Es de hacer notar que la portada es una recreación modernizada de la portada original del disco en 1985, un gráfico que siempre hacia que mi mama mirara mal la franela que lo llevaba y que para la fecha era una de mis preferidas, mas abajo les dejo el arte original para que comparen y se den cuenta de como una idea macabra y muy original se puede convertir en algo mas macabro aun, octubre 28 es la fecha de su lanzamiento, i can´t wait to hear it!!!

Now more about move in:
I got to the dorm bright and early (9 PM) and unloaded absolutely everything in the room/shed/prison cell. Then I realized that I had no drawers to put my clothing into so we high tailed it to the nearest shopping centre and spent an unholy amount of money purchasing everything else I needed. That took several hours and I honestly have never spent so much money in one day before and I really almost fainted at the sight of the triple digits on the receipts. But I now have a new very comfortable desk chair [for the long hours of watching Grey's Anatomy that are inevitably in my future], and lots of drawers to keep everything organized.

After raiding the nearest Target, we drove back to the dorm and unloaded everything again which was a fun process because with five people in one tiny room full of boxes and bags there was hardly room to breathe much less unpack. After a few hours of unpacking we decided to investigate the bookstores. I've only gotten e-mails from two of my professors about textbooks so I was pretty much clueless about the process. Unfortunately the dorm isn't in a great location with regards to central campus so it was quite a trek. Made worse by the fact that we had no clue where the hell we were going. We must have gone to four bookstores before I found everything I needed. My Linguistics class was a bitch to find books for. Only one store has Humanities textbooks! Said bookstore is basically like New England Mobile. A large cellar full of books. Only much hotter and stuffier. With my books [and this cool remote clicker thing that I need for my Sociology class] in hand, we headed back. And yet again we were completely clueless. For some reason, I have this problem with asking for directions. I get really embarassed and stubborn about it. So when we got lost my Mother immediately started nagging me to ask someone where to go. I don't know what happened but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I really need to work on that.

After walking for half an hour we made it back. Sometimes I hate how big campus is. It's really inconvenient, especially because I'm not acquainted with the bus schedule yet. Luckily it's free, my favorite price. I got back to the dorm and continued to unpack but was alerted half an hour later that I had to attend the New Student Convocation which I was told was mandatory. Apparently that was the hugest lie on the planet. If I had known that it would basically be a half an hour long walk across campus to the basketball arena where I was to sit in the nosebleed section while being talked at by old people that I couldn't even see because I was SO FAR UP, I would have not gone. I didn't want my RA to hate me on the first day so I went. And stupidly I wore shoes with negative arch support.

After 15 minutes of listening to the Provost drone on and on, I looked at my friend David and pretended to throw myself off the balcony. As inconspicuously as we could, we ran out of there and hopped on the first bus we saw that actually brought us right to our dorm. At that point I was so ravenously hungry that I was about to collapse so David and I went and had dinner at the dining hall. Luckily, if I ever get that hungry again, I'll have a large assortment of college student food items ranging from ramen to granola bars to easy mac to sustain me.

So my roomate is very sweet. I wasn't sure about her at first because she seemed a little subdued but she's coming out of her shell a lot and we're both equally lost so we're pretty much in this together. When I came back to my room she had some of her friends over and I met them and they were very friendly as well. So far I really can't complain. Tomorrow there is a hall meeting at the ungodly hour of 10:00 AM. Luckily, we're allowed to come in PJs. My mother leaves this morning and I really hope that my emotions return to me soon. I don't like feeling so empty.

On an unrelated note: Midwesterners do not understand sarcasm. It's going to be an issue.

R.A. Johnson writes (in the forward to "The Congruent Life"), "no good exodus worth its name can be completed without some time in the desert." M. Scott Peck says, "The goal may be to see just how many crises we can pack into one lifetime."

Haven't we all experienced this sort of season of life? A time spent in the desert. More than once, God has brought me to the desert to prep me for something else. This time, this desert, has been a bit different. This time has been a place of coming face to face with who I was and maybe who I am becoming. It hurts. I was in a place I thought was comfortable, long-term. God threw me to the backside of the desert.

As much as I don't like the changes God brings while I am in the desert, I realize He is forming me... Moving me... I like who I am and who God is making me into.

The dictionary may define an exodus as a mass departure of people, but there are times when we must travel through the desert alone.

Anyway, tonight, Brett (Levy, for those of you who don't know. He is the youth minister at FBCgT) was talking about Moses, and how he went from being born into Hebrew slavery, then raised as Egyptian royalty, then cast out when he murdered an Egyptian man, then God uses Moses to lead His people out of captivity to the life He promised them...of course they end up messing that up (but who of us hasn't messed up something that was supposed to be a blessing from God?!). It's a really cool story, and if you don't know it...go read the book of Exodus...I digress.

We get to the part of the story where Moses sees the burning bush (ch. 3). Moses kind of sees it, and then realises that this bush is on fire...but not being consumed! So he looks at it a little more closely, and what follows is an incredible encounter with the God of the universe:

When the LORD saw that he turned aside to look, God called to him from the midst of the bush and said, "Moses, Moses! And he said "Here I am." Then He said, "Do not come near here; remove your sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground" (Exodus 3:4-5)

The point Brett was making out of this passage in relation to our moral failures is that we need to humble ourselves before God when we are coming out of that. It's a great point, and is 100% true. When he shared the verse though, he kind of paraphrased it in a cool way that set my thought wheels in motion. He (Brett) said something to the effect of:

"What God is saying to Moses here is "Hey, show some respect before you come here, because you're about to experience something the likes of which you've never even heard of. Me."

I just thought it was really cool to picture God saying it this way.

A lot of time we're going, going, going, with something that we think (and may be) God inspired, but at some point we take Him out of the loop. True Life? WE CAN DO NOTHING WITHOUT GOD, THE CREATOR OF THE UNIVERSE, WHO KNOWS OUR EVERY THOUGHT!

Whatever it is that we feel God calling us to do we MUST humble ourselves at His feet if we have any SHRED  of hope of succeeding. When we pray for guidance from Him, we had better make sure that it is with a heart that knows how unworthy we are of His love.

Yet He gives it anyway.

For me, tonight, that is my deepest desire. That I would develop a more humble attitude toward what God has given me, and allowed me to do/part of, and what He is about to allow me to be a part of. As I embark on my Mission Year, I hope that I experience God in such a way that it would be something the likes of which I have never seen.

Learning all the time,

David

(Sorry this was longer than normal, thanks for giving it a look. I hope it got across the point that I had in my head)

Yes, I did say mankind.

Determinism (or so it seemed) led me to a BBC TV special entitled "Elephant Nomads of the Namib Desert." The film narrated the contrasting fate of two infant elephants namely Himba and Dusty---in a time when the region faced extreme drought. It's difficult to watch, especially after knowing that such species faced a grim future following Namibia's "Poaching Holocaust" during the 1980s.

It's one of those documentaries when you'd wish the crew would do something to help the animal in distress. But since God is the director, one can only watch and hope for a happy ending. Well, It was actually the search of hope in hopelessness that kept my eyes glued on the screen.

Himba was an orphan during the long journey after the rivers vanished into the sand which forced the entire family into exodus. He was the young elephant that limped through the arid terrain. His white bones were already visible under his forehead due to extreme malnutrition. The responsibility to make sure Himba stayed alive was passed to his grandmother named Rosa after his mother's death.

The spine vegetation that protruded from the hot sand won't allow Rosa to produce the milk that Himba needed. For Himba, milk was his only ambrosia which meant that chewing on roots won't do him any good. He suckled his grandmother's mammary glands for only a few ounces of nourishment. His eyes were almost glass---caused by the mirage that seem to extend like days that never end. Unfortunately, there won't be enough drops of milk for him because the quest for sustenance proved to be nil for many days.

His grandmother (the presumptive leader) didn't seem to have the right experience and intuition to lead her family to the green pasteurs. The whole pack walked and walked to a journey that appeared to have no promise for the feeble and starving calf. In their already threatened lineage, Himba's survival is vital.

Dusty's story was the complete opposite. He was shown happy, playing on the sand and fooling around with the rest of the pack under the same harsh conditions. One may say that he's lucky because he's not an orphan, but the series of compelling pictures had a different explanation. The leader of the pack (Dusty's mother) exactly knew which direction to take. Every 2 days worth of long, excruciating walk in the vast desert was remarkably quenched with the discovery of an oasis. A place of lush vegetation that allowed Dusty's mother to produce the nourishing milk that Himba could only long to drink. The mother was even successful in leading the whole pack to Marula trees that  dropped ripe fruits on the earth.

Himba's family didn't find the green. Instead, like the many days they endured, only spines and dry roots showed in their path. They found an almost empty watering hole, where they wallowed. The mud on their skin will serve as temporary protection from the sweltering heat. But a lost cause started to materialize when Himba couldn't summon the strength to lift himself from the mud. His sister pushed him upward so he could stand. With the additional push from his grandmother, he was able to do so, yet was introduced to the fate that he cannot sit anymore---or else there's a great chance he may not be able to stand and carry on with the important journey.

Sadly, Himba died a slow death in a constant effort to stay alive.  More painful days are necessary for his family to find the right graze and his death resulted to melancholy trumpets. Maybe sometime next year, the new Himba will benefit from his grandmother's past flaws in decision-making.

Maybe.

This is so far the most poignant animal survival documentaries I've seen---mainly because I found this elephant film ironically human. There are many aspects in this program that can be used as an analogy to every human family's survival. The poaching halocaust may represent dark-age events that resulted to man's difficulty in coping with changing times. The harsh and ill-fated journey of Himba and the trials of his family reminded me of the existing class war. I was enthralled by the fact that these elephants live in a world where knowledge holds the key to their resources. Himba was born in a family that lacks the experience and knowledge to ensure his survival. On the other hand, Dusty's future descendants may capitalize on his access to nourishing milk.

Himba's death is a metaphor that some of us may want to live but just won't make it. An agony that is hard to swallow, but still holds true in its purest sense. However, keep in mind that both Himba and Dusty's ancestors shared a painful history.

Now you know why some people don't have time to fool around.

I would probably be Himba for having the time to maintain this blog :-)

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