He came into the very world he created, but the world didn’t recognize him. He came to his own people, and even they rejected him. But to all who believed him and accepted him, he gave the right to become children of God. They are reborn—not with a physical birth resulting from human passion or plan, but a birth that comes from God. John 1:10-13
At 2 AM thoughts seem to echo in the brain. I knew it was early because there wasn’t a car on the road outside. At that hour only stray cars exist, cars coming home from bars or trouble, or swingshift.
The angel of death seems to slither through the hallway and I am aware of every ache and pain as I roll from side to side and back again. Mortality looms large. It ticks right along with the clock, and I have never been so conscious of it.
Thoughts turn into prayers as the moon sits high above.
53 is an age where you start thinking seriously about how much time you have left and more importantly how you want to live it.
I want what I do to count for eternity.
Death slithers like inky black smoke curling at my feet and I think of my parents dying, my cats dying, everyone I love dying, and if I will be alone when I die or if Jesus will come first. It is in the meat I ate last night, and I think how I’d like to give it up. It threatens to climb higher but I don’t let it, because I remember another more important thing.
Death has been swallowed up in victory
I never have to worry about being alone again.
Take that, angel of death.
The stone has been rolled away, in fact if I listen close I think I can hear it.
I blearily get up at 03:48, still feeling more dead than alive. But then I get coffee and I taste how good it is. I feed cats who are still very much alive and well. I hear E. breath from her room fast asleep and I smile because I know God holds her in His palm and He also holds me, and my parents, niece and brother.
Life has won. Love as won.
And it always will.
The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. John 1:5