...what feet are for

Oh, how sweet to walk in this pilgrim way, leaning on the everlasting arms;

oh, how bright the path grows from day to day, leaning on the everlasting arms.

---Elisha A. Hoffman, 1887

Path. Way. Journey. Through the years, these expressions of spiritual life have come to ring truest in my ear, and resonate most soundly in my soul. While I am not always positive about my destination, and my goals change, and sometimes finish lines seem frustratingly movable, feeling called to the journey is a constant. If day breaks, there is a path, and even when I may not be totally sold on the reason, my feet will be on it, because that is what feet, and paths, are for.

In this little bit of late-19^th cent. poetry, the hymnist speaks of the path growing bright from day to day. My mind travels to the memory verse from Bible Drill---“Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.” (Psalm 119:105) And the thing is, I’ve walked on some dark paths in my life (yep, literal and metaphorical), and I know how lights work. That flashlight? Even a good one, with the batteries you remembered to replace before you packed it up for the campout? It illuminates the path a few steps ahead.

God’s presence? Right there with us on the path, every step of the way. But that light it throws? It’s a flashlight, not a floodlight. We were always meant to walk leaning on God, steps at a time, waiting for the light to shine up ahead.

Wow. Light for the journey, and an arm to lean on. On the path with Jesus.

'Wish' is not 'hope'

Perhaps hope has wings,
and feet...

St. Disney is famous for the phrase, "A dream is a wish your heart makes, when you're fast asleep." And while, a week ago, I made a wish on (mercifully fewer than the actual 50) birthday candles before I blew them out, I have always felt that wishes were toothless and lacking in power. Now, hear me out; I'm not anti-dream-for-the-future. I just think there has to be a more active way to mold the future than by wishing.

Consider 'hope'. Not the "hope you feel better" hope, or even the "hope Santa is nice to you" hope. I'm thinking of that hope with some lift in it, and some feet under it. To hope for something, to place your hope in something or someone, is to commit your own efforts to bring the thing you hope for to fruition. To hope is to step across the line from interested observer to active participant.

The kind of hope the birth of Jesus brought, was this --- hope with power; the power of the hoper, the power of those who 'catch' the hope. This kind of hope, now, in a mean season, is hope with wings, and feet.