our help is in the name of the lord.
our life, like a bird, has escaped from the snare of the fowler. indeed the snare has been broken and we have escaped.
they say that when times are good that it’s easy to forget the lord. then when times are hard, we call out to him. i’m finding good or bad, it’s easy to forget where my help comes from.
it’s easy to believe one thing about yourself and actually be riding a plastic horse in meijer in your pajamas.
there was an older gentlemen sitting on a metal bench calmly placing pennies at the base of sandy, that faithful steed of these forty acres. he was encouraging this nonsense.
free rides on sandy the meijer pony. anyone at all can ride. anyone.
it’s a little like following jesus. a little like planting a church. anyone at all can try.
there’s the kindly older gentlemen putting pennies on the base telling you to mount up and try.
and that’s okay.
but what about real horses?
indeed the snare has been broken and we have escaped.
our help is in the name of the lord, who made heaven and earth.
i’ve ridden all this way with you and now i look up and see slurpee machines and check-out lines. this isn’t open country.
this is something else entirely.
it’s time to dismount and go outside.
the parking lot seems endless, but just across that road there, it does. i know it will.
there’s land out there somewhere. there’s a true heart and the cry of the poor out there somewhere, i know. i’m ashamed of myself for staying inside, going nowhere for so long, fed on pennies from a silent old man.
the lovers of your law have great peace, o lord.
i await your saving help.