The Sunrise. The Sunset. And a Construction Worker.

It is the night. The busyness of the day has long since settled away to a place known only by memory. What once rushed has now taken a sip of the good life, realizing it has no more cards to play. And with a flick of the wrist and the wave of an arm, it reveals its bluff. It will sit this one out.

The raging sun gave way to a miraculous night sky only a few hours ago. And I can't help but think the colors in the horizon that explode into view for those brief moments are there for a purpose. They reach down and heal. And set a smooth way over the heart. And wave away things that otherwise would linger from the day. In a way, it's hard to sit through a sunset and not smile. I think that's one of those cool things that God hardly ever gets credit for. We sweat so much of the small stuff that it is sometimes hard to find Joy in the things that happen all the time. I'm starting to feel the same way about the rainbow.

That's got to make God sad-to create things that would blow away an art gallery and yet not get the recognition of even a struggling artist at times.

If I was God, and we all should be glad I'm not, that would make me frustrated.

But I have control problems, obviously. And part of this whole deal that I'm going through is (I have to think) all a part of him teaching me how to live life without the reigns. Of course, I don't own a horse. But if I did, I would want to pull really tight on the ropes all the time. Maybe that's why my cousin's horses hate me so much and try to run me into trees.

It's that I go a million miles an hour with everything. I tackle ten projects at time and stress that not one is complete. And add more to save myself of the disappointment of not being able to control it and keep everything on track. The more I keep moving, the less I have to realize that I can't do it on my own.

It's nights like tonight that bring it all down and put me back in the right place. When the night air comes so close to the inner side of my soul...when the brisk air speaks words only my spirit can read that I can finally understand what he's trying to do with me.

It takes flipping off the radio in the truck and setting down the ipod and the blackberry and throwing up my hands against the idea that I'm my own god in order for me to hear or see anything with eyes and ears that truly hear.

I think if I could be completely honest with myself I could tell you that I do these things to myself (running at the speed of sound and all that) because I really don't trust in God enough to take care of all that needs to be done. But I'm not completely honest with you. So I'll make an excuse like "someone has to do it." or "that's just the way it is in today's world."

But I have an idea that those are just things I say to distract me from the real issue at play...there's a war going on for something I just can't see. And there's a whole bit of players at the table. And I'm tossing royal flushes into the trash can, waiting out hand after hand...blaming this day's failure to find peace on some sand-bagging technique...some way of life, I'll gettem' next time. Tomorrow will be a better day.

In other words, I'm beginning to think the fight for Joy (not the wussy one I fight sometimes) is just that- a fight. It's more like Afghanistan than America. As an American, I can be very passive when it comes to things like that. There's a sense of entitlement somewhere inside that says I've been promised something great because I'm a middle class American in the burbs. That's something I require. I've been promised that. And I'm here to tell you. That sort of mindset is ugly. And it causes nothing more than heartache. Unmet expectations. Unresolved issues.

I'm starting to be very careful at what I give my heart over to. And to settle for anything less than Joy, the real stuff that refuels the soul and turns the night into the day at the same time, with the same breathe from Heaven...if I settle for anything less than Joy, my heart begins to cling to things of lesser quality.

And suddenly I sleepwalk through life. That, my dear friend is not where I want to be. Thank you Father. That is not where I want to be.

But I do digress. On my drive down Cherry Street, I see something that pulls it all together. In an ironic way, it symbolizes this evening's struggle in the most surreal way. I'm cruising through a construction zone near an intersection. And out of the corner of my eye I notice, I'm passing a construction worker chilled out on the side of the road, taking in the night air. But he doesn't move. So I slow down a bit and watch him. He's setting on the grass off a bit. His legs are straight out. Arms on his thighs. Helmet on his head. Staring straight ahead. Almost like he just got the news that he's been working on the wrong road. It's not 15th street with the problems. It's 21st, his boss tells him in my imagination.

He almost looks in a trance. He's there. But he's not. Oddly enough, this man looks like the very thing inside of me that I despise.

Father, what does all this mean? It really does cut straight to the bone seeing a guy like that, without life.

The wisdom of the wise I will make foolish...suddenly that verse pops in my head. Out of no where.

Some time has passed since I saw him. And I've had a chance for all of that to settle in. And I've got this strange suspicion and sinking feeling that he's trying to tell me something. It comes with a sobering feeling.

Life with God is a unique experience. It comes with the painful pleasure of being made whole. Lots of building up and tearing down. Clay pots. Jars of Clay.

But there is his Love. And that counts for so much. At the same time there is an absence of that Love that strikes a deep contrast to everything in full bloom. I'm starting to realize this is life.

I'm starting to think God had me see the man on the corner to show me a bit about myself and the reality that he will turn the wisdom of the wise man upside down with the snap of his fingers.

With and without. It's a great contrast. The fullness of it and the complete numbness to it. Oh for the chance to wake up tomorrow and breathe in the fresh air...for a gift to see the dew as it evaporates from the blades of grass. To see a bird lift from a troubled and weak limb of a tree. To have all this and need nothing more. To have life. and to have it fully. This is my prayer.

And so I log off for the night. Aware that there might not be a tomorrow. If there is and I'm included in it...God willing, I will try to embrace it with open arms.


Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. William Wordsworth



Rich Mullins "The Color Green"