while you were sleeping

2 Chronicles 32:20-21
Then Hezekiah the king and Isaiah the prophet, the son of Amoz, prayed because of this and cried to heaven. And the LORD sent an angel, who cut off all the mighty warriors and commanders and officers in the camp of the king of Assyria…

I love, love, love how Anne Kennedy writes of this moment:

The Assyrians are the most powerful army in the world. Their weapons are strong, their soldiers resolute. They have come prepared to win. The people on the wall know they haven’t a hope.

But their king prays. Their king, in wisdom, cries out to God. And then, apparently, he goes to sleep. So everyone else must lie down and try to do likewise.

When they rise up, they strain their eyes over the mist burning off in the sweltering morning sun; they look out and see that not a single enemy soldier remains alive. Every single one is dead.

Anne Kennedy, Nailed It, Day 102

Our King is praying too. Whatever situation we face making us worry on the wall, know this: enthroned within the eternal kingdom King Jesus is praying for us. And all is well.

The night is long and dark and fearsome, but when the morning mist is burned away by the unshrouded glory of the Son, everywhere we look is evidence of victory. Carcasses litter the valley floor, and we are saved.

Today I was reading Mark’s account of the crucifixion. As the Savior hung on the cross, and the people jeered, there were better than 72,000 angels with hands on swords drawn and ready to strike at Messiah’s command.

Our story tells of one angel. Probably a biggie to be sure, nonetheless this one angel wiped out 185,000 Assyrians, clear-cutting them from the landscape! Just imagine what 72,000-plus could do. I shudder to think.

Whatever is weighing on you, fear not. Not a single Assyrian will get past your Father’s security detail. There’s at least one angel he’s dispatched whose carrying a work order with your name on it, and we know what one angel can do.

Spurgeon, as only Spurgeon can tell it:

To what dignity are the chosen elevated when the brilliant courtiers of heaven become their willing servitors! Into what communion are we raised since we have intercourse with spotless celestials!

How well are we defended since all the twenty-thousand chariots of God are armed for our deliverance! To whom do we owe all this?

Let the Lord Jesus Christ be forever endeared to us, for through Him we are made to sit in heavenly places far above principalities and powers. He it is whose camp is round about them that fear Him; He is the true Michael whose foot is upon the dragon. All hail, Jesus! thou Angel of Jehovah’s presence…

Charles Haddon Spurgeon, Morning Reading, Oct. 3

You are his dwelling place and the Lord of the angel-armies defends what is his. In another place related to this biblical scene, God says he will protect his city against the Assyrians in such a way the “feeblest will become like David” who feared no man, no challenge, no threat, no intimidation.

David, who had his Mighty Men acting as his human shield, going before and behind him, an omnidirectional wall of security, was no more protected than we are.

Finally, exhausted from prayer and cries for mercy and justice, the king and his prophet Isaiah felt they could go to bed. While they were sleeping, and the city with them, the death angel of the Lord passed over the Assyrians wherever they were camped, and made them history.

As bad as things might be for you tonight, if Assyrians are keeping you awake, know that he who is with you is greater than the forces organized against you, and tomorrow is a brand new day.

Selah, beloved.

ride on King Jesus

 

Dogwood blossoms. Photo ©️ Pasturescott

Ride on, ride on in majesty!
In lowly pomp ride on to die;
O Christ, thy triumphs now begin
O’er captive death and conquered sin. 

Ride on, ride on in majesty!
Your last and fiercest strife is nigh.
The Father on His sapphire throne
awaits His own anointed Son.

Ride on, ride on in majesty!
In lowly pomp ride on to die,
bow Your meek head to mortal pain,
then take, O Christ, Your pow’r and reign.

— Henry Hart Milman1


1 Excerpted from Henry Hart Milman hymn, Ride On, Ride On In Majesty!, 1820

home for christmas


It rained. Oh, how it rained!

A rather unfestive three days before Christmas, the storms were so bad we couldn’t get out of the van to watch the men lower our son’s body into its resting-place. The very best we could do was pull up beside the gravesite and witness the hurried ceremony, if you could even call it that. I could see my wife’s breath on the window from her passenger seat, forming little clouds of moisture as she looked on, reverently. We held hands.

It seemed oddly profane to see our son lowered as the running rain sluiced into the earthen hole. It was made doubly so by not having the familiar words spoken over the descending casket but rather the hasty work of workmen finishing before the hole flooded.

It was December 22 and Christmas felt so far away. 

Four years have passed since that driving rainstorm served as the backdrop of one of our little family’s toughest days. It did not, however, drown our hope. Our only child – in spite of trauma, tragedy, and devilish snare – made it home for Christmas by the grace of God.

Funny what you think about in moments of deep sorrow.

Graham leading worship at The Garden in Atlanta, our last Father’s Day together

The last time I was in Graham’s company on a good day (re: clean and living with purpose) I watched him lead worship at a place called The Garden. Fittingly, it was Father’s Day, and, quite incidentally, a bright, sunny morning.

He was clad in jeans and a white fedora, with an electric guitar cradled around his broad shoulders. There was an array of snaking wires and guitar pedals at his feet. Me, I sat on the opposite side of the platform and just beamed at my boy. With axe in hand, Graham was pretty incredible if I do say so. 

I believe my son chose the first song of the worship set as a means of introducing us to himself in terms he could easily have written. I’m going to add the lyrics because it’s important to know what his heart was conveying in that unworldly moment; chiefly, that he was averse to being fake, a kid who wanted nothing more than to “make it home” by God’s grace…in spite of himself.

Here’s how Graham wanted to be remembered. This is what he wanted his mom and I to think about in that driving rain on that cold, December Sunday afternoon:

(Momma & Dad,)

I’m not trying to hide anything
I wear it on my sleeve
I wear it on my sleeve
I’m not trying to be something I’m not
This is all I’ve got
This is all I’ve got

I’m not trying to re-invent the wheel
Just trying to be real
Trying to be real
I’m not trying to say follow me
I’m not the one who leads
I’m not the one who leads

Let me introduce myself to you
This is who I am
No more, no less
I am just a man who understands
Because of You I’m blessed
No more, no less

I’m not trying to prove anything
It’s all about the change
It’s all about the change

I hope you stare just long enough to see
The heart that’s beating here inside of me
Beyond all the things you may think you know
I’m just a kid trying to make it home, that’s it
No more, no less

Lord, I want to go home
Nothing more, nothing less

Advent in our household means there’s no higher joy than our kid being home, safe and sound.

Would we love to have our own ‘Maxwell House long lost son home for the holidays waking the parents up with the aroma of coffee’ version of Christmas? A small part of us would, but then it occurs to us: Graham already beat us home.

Selah, beloved.

From us to you, the happiest of Christmases and the joy of the Spirit of Christ – who is our eternal Home – be yours.