“17 But since we were torn away from you, brothers, for a short time, in person not in heart, we endeavored the more eagerly and with great desire to see you face to face, 18 because we wanted to come to you—I, Paul, again and again—but Satan hindered us. 19 For what is our hope or joy or crown of boasting before our Lord Jesus at his coming? Is it not you? 20 For you are our glory and joy. 3 Therefore when we could bear it no longer, we were willing to be left behind at Athens alone, 2 and we sent Timothy, our brother and God’s coworker in the gospel of Christ, to establish and exhort you in your faith, 3 that no one be moved by these afflictions. For you yourselves know that we are destined for this. 4 For when we were with you, we kept telling you beforehand that we were to suffer affliction, just as it has come to pass, and just as you know. 5 For this reason, when I could bear it no longer, I sent to learn about your faith, for fear that somehow the tempter had tempted you and our labor would be in vain.” (1 Th 2:17–3:5 ESV)

Two spaceships each on their own course, and the huzzah is raised, the curiosity factor is heightened: can we checkpoint check in across the vast reaches of space? Me and my house, we are trusting in the Lord. Me and sadness have parted ways; me and concrete deeds, these Lead with oomph inimitable, un-faked, fresh and Tomorrow-Minded. Indeed, it shan’t be that one thing done we move right on to another thing, rather that Thing One is really in truth the answer to Everything.

In theory, and yet in Practice it is quite the zany world wherein our own deeds bring—retrospective of some Concrete Action, Labor, Work—are both reason to fear and reason to be proud. We fear to have erred, perhaps. But also we are brought to mind that we are Corrective and Shipshape, On Course and Efficacious. Our deeds, we may chuckle but not cackle like a witch or warlock: holiness was therein placed. Reason was therein honored. Sagacity was therein upheld.

The first question, of the Christian, is why this talk of a Father in Heaven? And is said Father available to all of us? Would that there was time in the day to absent the War focus and present the gentle Caress or Collegial Fraternal loving Encounter. No, if said Father in heaven even sleeps on our schedule, rather than on some distant foe’s timing; if said Father in heaven even placates us with spoiled gifts; said Father in heaven trusts and invests in us. In His people, whom we shall know by each other, by the oomph and ecstasy in our Amped outlay. In our raving loon Plans. Devised Plans, Plans that upend and in sacramental fashion do Pave the Way for fresh thought and Tomorrow Victory.

Because our dreams, our bridges in thought, our traversal in Mind, these Illumine with plain-faced Fact of our first war won, perhaps, and that no cake-walk, but also our Hopes, so Jonah-like unsatisfiable, finally Realized. The Christian is under an Umbrella called Love, but nothing easy-peasy or touchy-feely, rather Principled, Actionable Love. For, what a gift to have a Mission, to be On Call, to be at the ready and Dutiful. And they are sent on mission sinister: “Find the Father!” As if. As if some healthy—perhaps towards children we call it good manners—some healthy sense of Fear of the Unknown, was not germane. Not Requisite. So entire edifices ebb and flow, and meanwhile, two collegial foes, rather two with professional respect for each other, spot each other a mile away. But are we thus Cynical: to the hidden ones, everyone we meet is likewise a hidden one. To the spy all are spies. Etc. And we fail to appreciate, by and large… these are Trustworthy Souls and simply-made Creatures.

The soldier at her or his perch therefore brings to the altar any and all Fascination with war, any and all Fascination with the downfall of others, even of enemies… we Pray: help us Love and dispel the cynical thoughts. Did those thoughts originate in our own unredeemed portions of the soul? Or is life that Cynical, always? 

Life is wheezing along, it can sometimes seem: our deep three-layers-deep thinking, is rooted in first layer choices still uncreated. But the Peace, as the promise of a Tomorrow, a shift in the fabric, the ice age finally starting to melt… dare we ever dream again, after so many hopes and dreams lay failed and ruined? What if we were to lose a loved one? Would we still be able, in existential fashion, to Pony Up, to beat a race out of the gates? So to those Dreamers, those for whom all day long isn’t long enough to pray up a storm over all Peoples, literally hundreds perhaps, of acquaintances… to pray over each one by name. And then to the illusions, to the check-ins most unreformed as of this hour… where, then, does our hope lie? It lies in that Leadership Motif proclaimed widely, that we Resurrect precisely after living near to some Flame, that Flame being unselfish labors, being contrite hearts, being those accustomed to Health Scares and Real traumas and cancers. Accustomed to a Hope not nepotism and not self-indulgent, but Pan, but Widespread, but Resurrected from a dead dream, a dream that abandoned us, left us at the altar.