There's a stump in my front yard that's sending out leafy, green shoots.

After this pruning, I shall be fruitful.
After this burning, I shall be pure.

Resurrection is preceded by death, as its prerequisite. There is no other way.

Joy is on the other side of sorrow.
Rest is on the other side of labor.
Peace is on the other side of war.
Healing is on the other side of injury.

The only way out is through.
The longest way round is the shortest way home.

Life is on the other side of death.
Hope will light the way.

Let's lay down our petty luxuries,
Close our eyes to the shining foil with which we've gilded our makeshift wealth
(mudpies and cowpats disguised in gold candy wrappers);
Let's get dirty and muddy,
Let's ruin our clothes and reduce them to rags,
Let's make our hands hard and our eyes dim,
Let's dig for real, lasting riches
In the mud and the mire
(Wealth is on the other side of poverty
Plenty is on the other side of want).
And even if we don't find any
(But we will find all we need)
We haven't really lost anything.

What good is a grape hanging ripe on the vine?
Why not be crushed to make wine?

(Mending is on the other side of brokenness.)

Everything will be ruined.
Everything will be alright.

Life is on the other side of death.
Hope will light the way.

On the Dark Pleasures of Sleeping In

This tension between glory and apathy;
between the good fight and a good night's sleep;
between a maybe-wife-and-kids and my much-loved sittin'-around time;

and this question of what all the fighting is worth if it won't end while I live--

It pulls me apart at the seams.

All human action is ultimately self-motivated
(even the most selfless altruist in some sense wants to be altruistic),
and so often, I just run completely

out.

of.

fuel.

(My head is in the sand. I keep a white flag on my person at all times. I don't care. I'm not involved. I don't need it. I give up. Just leave me alone.)

(It doesn't matter to me if I don't win; just so long as I don't lose.)

"Keep your head low and your mouth shut" has always been my motto, but it's not really real life.

But what's so great about real life?

What do you get out of it?

And no use saying "It's not about that"--everybody's out for something. All human action is ultimately self-motivated; there's no other way.

But through the mud and muck and mire
(Like a treasure buried in the silt
Like the sun reflected off the windshield of a car)
Truth and beauty and goodness shine a light I can't ignore
(or not for long, anyway)
And on good days, I want to be out for that.

On good days, glory overcomes apathy.
On good days, the good fight is better than a long nap.
On good days, just sittin' around gets boring
(and anyway a wife would be so soft and smell so nice!)

But even on good days, it's still a fight just to not feel like I could go either way.

Lord Jesus, have mercy on me.