4 AM. Cue the music!
Alive Forever, Amen!
Let my heart sing out, for Christ, the One and only
So powerful and holy rescued me
Death won’t hurt me now because He has redeemed me
No grave will ever keep me from my King
CHORUS
I’m alive, alive, alive, hallelujah!
Alive! praise and glory to the Lamb.
He’s alive, alive, alive. Hallelujah!
Alive! Forever. Amen
Bridge
Worthy is the Lamb, worthy of our praise
Worthy is the One who has overcome the grave
Let the people dance, let the people sing
Worthy is the mighty King . . .
If you’ve never heard this, don’t sweat it. The lyrics speak for themselves.
If you have, you’ve been singing along, bobbing your head and shuffling your feet.
Oh, yeah. It’s catchy and catching.
What grabbed my attention? “Death won’t hurt me now because He has redeemed me; no grave will ever keep me from my King!”
Everybody – sometimes including me – figured I was a goner. Toast. As Dandy Don Meredith used to sing not-so-fluidly, “Tarn ayat th’ lahts, th’ pardee’s oh-ver-r-r.” Monday Night Football has never been the same since the days of Don Meredith and Howard Cosell. Some consider that an improvement. I digress.
I would’ve been just another no-name pastor unknown outside his own church’s circle, dead in the line of duty. No biggie. Hope the next one God sends us is a literate one who knows how to be blind, deaf and dumb. This one was finding out too much, and knew some of us were trying to sack him. A little football lingo, since tonight’s TNF.
The scattered millions of acres of the American West are dotted with the often-unmarked graves of tough, hardy men and women and their families who helped tame a wild, wonderful swath of America. The same is true of countless pastors and wives who turned toward God’s call to serve His people wherever they are.
Oh, there are markers on most of their graves. Good thing. Even knowing their names and the dates on either end of their ‘dash’, we still don’t know ’em, much.
The point? I didn’t totally die! Yeah, it was close a few times. But all that did was make me that much more exuberant about living! About staying alive! NO! No BeeGees right now. Stop.
“But. . .”
I said STOP.
Remember Old John? He jotted down what Jesus said: “Because I live, you also will live.”
“Woop, there it is—-!”
Uh, pardon me for a moment.
Would you . . . go over there, sit down and shut to the up! Yeah, I mean it. And put that stupid iPod DOWN. I’m focusing on writing and I do NOT need your input. OR yours, yours–and especially YOURS! Now, ALL y’all get over there, plant it and zip it!
Thank you. Occasionally a few of my more colorful personalities forget who’s in charge and overplay their roles. Usually I can sift through their silliness but when they start arguing, things get, ah, challenging. Serves me right for letting them download Zedge . . .
Jesus told the Twelve Lads that before the Cross. He never said, “I’m going to live.” He said one of those cryptic statement for which He was famous: “I AM alive. And because I am, you will be, too.” As The Message puts his words, “…and you’re about to come alive. At that moment you will know absolutely that I’m in my Father, and you’re in me, and I’m in you.” (vv. 19-20)
So.
I woke up this morning celebrating LIFE! I’m SO blessed to be alive! It doesn’t matter that God’s healing in me has been/is being selective. I know it’s tailored to God’s exacting, specific intent just for me. My heart is grateful for the measured patience of God’s healing hand. Infinitely able to instantly, totally heal and restore, His most amazing healing takes place across long night, lonely memory-swept plains of stubborn faith and the stretching years of Time, unseen and unnoticed until pausing to look back . . .
Could He have simply, quickly restored me to my original 6 feet tall and 250 pounds? Sure. What’s the chances if He had that I might’ve taken credit for some of it? Almost certain. I’d always been healthy, grew up eating garden fare. Other than a couple of hernias as a kid and a bike wreck wherein I tested my cranial structure against a good-sized rock, I was a fairly healthy man.
Yeah. I’d have probably done just like you: a couple months, maybe a year or two of, “Thank you, Lord” and a bunch of, “Yeah, I’ve always had a pretty positive outlook. I’m sure that was part of it. Gifted surgeons and fantastic RNs and techs. Yep.”
So God chose to be healing me every day. Every new sunrise is a fresh gift of His grace – 24 more hours I never expected to see or experience.
And the best part? I get to write! I GET to!
Oh, yeah, babe. I. Am. BLESSED!
What? What are you moping about?
“You told us we had to sit over here and stifle. You got AN-NEEE idea how tough that is for YOUR personalities? Hah? You think YOU have a problem being quiet sometimes—-”
(sigh. . .) Okay, you can get up and talk.
“WA-HOOOO! HEY, LET’S GE—-”
But NOT UNTIL AFTER I’ve posted this.
© D. Dean Boone, October 2014