“1 Paul and Timothy, servants of Christ Jesus, To all the saints in Christ Jesus who are at Philippi, with the overseers and deacons: 2 Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Thanksgiving and Prayer 3 I thank my God in all my remembrance of you, 4 always in every prayer of mine for you all making my prayer with joy, 5 because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now. 6 And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ. 7 It is right for me to feel this way about you all, because I hold you in my heart, for you are all partakers with me of grace, both in my imprisonment and in the defense and confirmation of the gospel. 8 For God is my witness, how I yearn for you all with the affection of Christ Jesus. 9 And it is my prayer that your love may abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment, 10 so that you may approve what is excellent, and so be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, 11 filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God.” (Philippians 1:1-11 ESV)

Listening not to the obvious voices, but rather in faith about a Saint’s voice, that as one body the Christian family bears one another’s burdens, shoulders each other’s pain, celebrates in unison, and is Submitted to the right gestalt: a shared “thing”, an elder’s wisdom that surpasses the endless calls for naked ambition or for unwise forays. These things are peachy and prune the latent growth of unkosher weed; we Discover ourselves having awoken after a solemn couple days and few dozen hours in the Tomb with Christ.

Because friendly banter coaches the soldier in ways too mighty to comprehend: we are Coached and Tutored, taught to lean in on some external fuzz or entity as All-Potent, our errors no longer borne in light of Christ bearing them for us on His Cross. We know a few things about the merger of safe passage with Frontline Duty. It isn’t after all a safe passage by some accounts, and this is Invite to us as a Christian brotherhood and sisterhood, as a Family, to heave-ho around the Effort—the War—of evangelization. 

Living witnesses to a Thing, to Christ’s potency that goes soup-to-nuts, turtles all the way down, no: One Lord, as remedy to the blindsided nature of Sin; man Blindsided by his or her innocence, by the more Sophisticated agent and—we pray—a fellow traveler and Friend, not a Foe. We pray this one be able to Tarry and Parry forth on some sublime notion: nothing so trivial shall come between or dismantle this Fellowship.

The headlines, then, come fast and furious across the Portal, the Visual Cortex enlightened to know: Hey, I’m there for you. We are “out there” as a team, in each other’s corner, somewhere “out there”. And to careen this way and that in our own manic or panicked Warzone, is also to vibe off of the flow, off of the Emblem, the Antics, the Entity writ large: we are in it together.

So, too, the sobering reality that this day may mark “for real” war. Ouch. Or, rather, let the cavalries proceed. Let the landing parties regale. Let the parachuting strike deep behind enemy lines. Because we are not dissuaded, only we have already Mourned, the losses… if ever it can be said that we’ve mourned enough. It will be legion against legion. It will be all the forces of Heaven against all those of Lucifer’s domain, Hell and its obvious ease.

The “obvious” spokesperson, is now silenced in the calculation, in the subconscious “feeling about”… feeling for authority, for Theology, for Message, for Presence. We feel around for these things, bearing in mind the awful parenting or childhood traumas that have hindered so many whom we see in pitiable light: not all have the Expansiveness or the Calm Demeanor needed to be gladsome and have equanimity, to be Gregarious and Willing: to Die for those less fortunate. To stirrup up for those less Observant or Dutiful; it ain’t their fault, perhaps. Or perhaps it is: we make no condescending Entreaties or Therapies to “Solve” things. Trauma, it is real, and so too is the sword and shield, the helmet and gun, in the soldier’s Assigned Taskforce. In the trenches where we are finally Fully Alive. Because so much we’ve overcome, the “Hey, that hurt!” of something that left us tongue-tied, that Aped us, aped the “We” who feel inadequate always, always feeling like lost in loserdom, not having the right words to say but still: to each their own, God rewards us with Vocation and Outlet. Everyone is a hero, everyone a star. Because of having found our Groove and our Day’s Labors.