“63 Who is this who comes from Edom, in crimsoned garments from Bozrah, he who is splendid in his apparel, marching in the greatness of his strength? “It is I, speaking in righteousness, mighty to save.” 2  Why is your apparel red, and your garments like his who treads in the winepress? 3  “I have trodden the winepress alone, and from the peoples no one was with me; I trod them in my anger and trampled them in my wrath; their lifeblood spattered on my garments, and stained all my apparel. 4  For the day of vengeance was in my heart, and my year of redemption had come. 5  I looked, but there was no one to help; I was appalled, but there was no one to uphold; so my own arm brought me salvation, and my wrath upheld me. 6  I trampled down the peoples in my anger; I made them drunk in my wrath, and I poured out their lifeblood on the earth.”” (Is 63:1–6 ESV)

Suggestibility and culpability both as near misses to the gospel, brings on the Fact of Tomorrow’s War already on our doorstep, as we Cope in bleary-eyed wizened “I can’t go on” facing of the day… Today. Yet, “I got this” is the rejoinder and indeed not a moment too soon, for whomsoever may hear our prayers “up there”, it is mocked up even in film that we, the “Everyman”, “Everywoman” needs to be the “strongest person in the universe”.

No flattery nor dictated outlay for One Man, One Woman, but a high bar for all of us, the Call of Duty points to the incredible Truth that our own kin, our own flesh-and-blood, fellows in the church pews, neighbors, these are some of the most elite Fighters the world has ever known: the most strongest in the universe.

Beautiful, sagacious, possessed of savoir faire… the ways we come to reckon with the Constant Destruction is via recognizing it as Gospel Occasion for Resurrection. God sacrifices, fathers and mothers they Challenge and Utilize their kids, teachers Push their students, the “bat mitzvah” is postponed, it can seem, indefinitely. Because of this confidence stored up in some corner of our mind: that some sort of Elite Game is underway, the aim and rules of which we only partly understand.

We must needs be Strong in light of that token Nap, Rest, perhaps rarely indulged, but an occasion for the Soul to catch up to the Body: to let heavenly Unction just begin to peek out and minister to us, to show Absolving Power and even more: Certainty we are to hold head high and noble intent front and center. It was a Massive Operation, after all, Christ and His Last Supper, everything could go wrong, indeed: witness, Judas.

It was a meeting or confluence of One Entity Divine, yet twelve variants on the theme, Agent, Provocateur, Screen-Nursing Intel Officer at the desk and behind earpieces and headphones and Game Day readiness. Jesus was the variant on that Two-plus Millennia ago. He was the Proof in the Pudding there ain’t no rest for the weary. The proof in the pudding, to Engage Father in Heaven in the hillsides and city removes, must have been a Psychological Game, Profile, Embedded Amping and Upbuilding, Juicing up for the Hour on Stage.

That Christ was the ne plus ultra of the game, this is to Reassure of our “kit” so meaningless, benign, plain: search me! You will find nothing, except a Duty to preach the word. So He said, and so We Say, because the Mindset is coached into being half-subconsciously. We literally wonder, did we invent it all? But no, the Soldier is amped finally by the sweet-nothings or reinforcing Plausible and Explanatory assurances: you were running well, what hindered you? You say you have some guilt on your heart? It is nothing I was aware of…

Running well, indeed, when the sick bay lies inviting and the “coming in from the cold” beckons with false assurances. Indeed, take the cleric at their word: we can be forgiven anything, but Truth calls us not to confess if not guilty. Do not misuse the Gospel.

The Tomorrow War is amped by Today’s final recognition, hey, any One of my friends past… could make a future together… but No, we sought a higher calling. Ambitious, perhaps. But principled, determined, servant-minded (interject nice adjectives and sweet nothings here!), we of all people are scarcely out from under “biggest scoundrel, abuser I’ve ever met” when we tip-toe across a tight-rope of stern countenance (the cameras are everywhere) and plucky Resilience: the strongest woman or man in the universe.