A man named Abram was re-named Abraham. His grandson’s name (Jacob) was changed to Israel. Jesus had a disciple named Simon but switched it to Peter. In each case, the new name indicated the turning of a page in their lives. Abram was childless but Abraham was the father of the Jewish people and patriarch to all who trust in the LORD. Jacob deceived his brother and stole Isaac’s blessing. But once he “wrestled” with the consequences of his wrongs, he struggled with God who changed his name and gave him a blessing that could not be lost. The confession that Jesus was the Christ of God was proof positive that Simon received truth from heaven that no earthly knowledge could come up with. His words became the bedrock of the Church and Peter was one of the earliest pillars.

And now I have a new name too.

I was exited the Orange line at the lower level of Metro Center. As I was on my way to catch the Red line to work, a man grabbed my arm and said something but my headphones obscured his words. I took them off and heard him say, “You’re Nana’s husband.” Startled, I affirmed his true statement. The man could see that I was at a loss and then he introduced himself: “I was at your wedding; I’m Grace’s husband.” That’s when I recognized him by the unique frames of his eyeglasses. We had a quick chuckle but he was headed onto the train I was leaving so that was that. The whole encounter took all of 15 seconds, but I pondered it all day long.

My new name came as a result of being married. Grace’s husband never spent a day with me and Nana to know what kind of husband I was. So really, he gave me a new name based on the words I had spoken that day. The words, sometimes flowery and sometimes solemn, along with the preacher’s proclamation had convinced him that I was a husband to Nana. But he’s never spent any other time with me and Nana to examine for himself. In a real sense, he based my new name on the declaration of love and commitment I had made on August 2nd. This led me to ponder further…

The last figures I saw indicate that about 2.1 billion people bear the name “Christian”. These figures are largely based on a similar formula of words and ceremonial formulas that, once uttered, supposedly make one a follower of Jesus. But in truth, only God knows how many Christians there are. More importantly, only God knows with absolute certainty whether or not I, Eric (Nana’s Husband) am really a Christian.

Hopefully, there are some people out there who have noticed some evidences of my love for God, but just as Nana’s in the best position to speak on my credentials as a husband, only God can affirm or deny with authority my status as a Christian. While only God knows for sure, I am not invisible and neither are my actions. Someone out there ought to be a witness to my faith as much as there should be some evidence besides a ring on my left hand that I’m married.

But I did have one other thought. I wonder what it would take for me to step out of a bus and have someone grab my arm, declaring, “You’re a Christian!” Honestly, I wonder.

“Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever.”

-The Apostle Paul, from 1st Corinthians 9:25 (9:24-27 in context)

Olympic Fever is spreading faster than any known disease. Heads of state, sporting legends, big media, and celebrities of all stripes now take a backseat to the stars in Beijing. Even the presidential race is sure to slow down because McCain and Obama know what we all know: an alley-oop from Kobe to LeBron is better than any commerical with Paris and Britney in it.

Casual viewers like myself are already bombarded with story after epic story on NBC describing the amazing path athletes paved on their way to the Olympics. These persons gave up their social lives, lost their childhood, adopted strange eating habits, endure training that borders on torture, moved away from family and most are living among others who have made the same sacrifices.

Now take a good look at that list. If we switched the venue from sports to faith, wouldn’t it sound like these people were in a cult of some kind?

I’m not writing to disrespect or throw a shadow on the Olympics. I look forward to the Summer Games every four years and will certainly log in dozens of hours watching them. However, as I heard story after story of the dedication of these athletes, I couldn’t help but wonder why dedication in the world of sports is generally seen as admirable- if not heroic- but a devotion to one’s faith when making the same sacrifices is seen as “fanatical” or “escapist”. For sure, if I as a Christian, were willing to make the same social sacrifices, move away from my family and live with others who did the same, I doubt I’d be celebrated.

Why is that?

The ancient Olympic games have, however, found a spot in the New Testament. In the passage above, the Apostle Paul uses imagery from the Olympic games from his general era to make the analogy of faith between training for righteousness and dedication to sports. 2nd Timothy, widely regarded as Paul’s last letter before execution under Emperor Nero says,

“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge will award to me on that day- and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing.”

The imagery is there: after having competed, Paul expects to stand on the medal stand and await the reward from the only Judge that really counts. That confidence extends to the Christian community of all eras, environments, and ethnicities. But does it extend to you personally?

“We do not know what to do, but our eyes are upon you. All the men of Judah, with their wives and children and little ones, stood there before the LORD.”
- 2nd Chronicles 20:12(b)-13

So I’m just sitting at my desk when my Outlook alerts me to a new message coming to my email account at work. I get a lot of well-meaning forwarded spam and while this wasn’t one of them, it was still spam. Belief.net sends all kinds of stupid emails. I was dumb enough to click on something a few years back to sign up with them. However, I’m also lazy enough that I can’t seem to click on the “if you do not wish to receive emails from us any longer” clause at the end of each spam email. I know- I’m pitiful.

“Unlocking the Power of Prayer” was the title to this particular email. I gave it one quick glance and it seemed like a promo for yet another wacky, pseudo-Christian book that promises to “unlock” all these secrets to a better prayer life. I started thinking on the often repeated phrase, “There’s power in prayer”. But is there really?

The real answer is: of course not! Prayer itself isn’t anything but my communicated desires/hopes/wishes to God. There’s no real power in that at all. While prayer includes more than requests, all the power comes from the One being prayed to and NOT the one praying.

And yet, more and more books are sold on the ridiculous rehashing re: supposed secrets to getting your prayers answered. Rubbish. All such nonsense, while often well-meaning, is attractive to us because it appeals to our ego. It swells our heads to think that we can exercise great authority given to us in Christ over such and such a circumstance. We LOVE the idea that we have some kind of power through the actions we perform; or in this case, the words we speak. After all, there’s nothing sexy about being totally dependent on anyone- even if it’s the Heavenly Father Himself.

In an honest moment of reflection, we may very well find that many of our prayers and our search for the secrets to prayer are really a desire to manipulate God in one fashion or another. Naturally, there isn’t 1 Christian in 1000 who would blatantly attempt to do this on purpose. But are Christians really encouraged to think critically about prayer in the first place?

Eventually, I’ll do a serious study on the various models of prayer given to us in the Bible (there’s more to it than Jabez). But for now, the one rule in prayer I’ll examine exists in regards to the proper posture. That posture has nothing to do with whether your kneel or stand or lay prostrate. I’m talking about the position of the heart when you and I pray. Reading 2nd Chronicles chapter 20 really highlighted where the TRUE power of prayer lies.

Just a little something I dug up a few days ago…

PSALM 112

The Man who finds great delight in the Lord`s command
Fears God and his children are mighty in the land
All his descendants are honored and blessed
Favor is on his house righteousness in his chest

Even in darkness, light
Dawns for the upright
God`s grace is bestowed
On the heart that is contrite

Sure of God`s provision, that man gives freely
Never jealous of others so he treats brothers justly
Planted on the Rock- he is never shaken
The memories of such a man are never taken away

He can lay
On his back
When his foes
Lay the trap
`cause he knows
Through the highs
And the lows
It is man that proposes
Yet God still disposes
And no, Life ain`t roses
He won`t always roll seven
But he knows that this life
Is a pit stop till heaven. So,

His heart is secure since his faith displaced fear
He can scatter God`s gifts to those far and them near
Both his strength and his righteousness come from the Lord
So his name will endure and always be well honored

The wicked will see and their souls will be vexed
They gnash with their teeth when their minds are perplexed
But the man who will stand by the Lord`s great command
Fears God and his wife is honored in the land.

Okay, so it’s official. Some have muses, some take drugs, but me? I take metro. Apparently, there’s something special about the intersection of Potomac and Pennsylvania Avenues that sparks creativity and thought in me. Opportunities abound and I’m the better for taking them. So in today’s story…

I was sitting at the bus stop waiting for my faithful steed (the M6 if you didn’t know) when I smelled cigarette smoke. Strangely enough, I grew up in a house where my Dad smoked a pack a day but now I can’t handle the smell at all. I turned to see the smoker sitting on the bench next to mine.

Seeing his face confirmed what I thought when I heard his voice: youth. I mean, he looked really young. I guessed 14 or 15 at most. His seamless use of 4-letter words didn’t concern me as much as the bondage he was trapped in. Smoking as a teen is bad business.

I thought of all those ‘Truth‘ ads and how ineffective they evidently were in his case. I surprised myself at how moved I was beholding this mere minor who would inevitably be fighting his nicotine addiction. The financial, social, and medical woes ahead… somehow I felt like I should say something.

But you know the mental gymnastics you do calculating the risks of getting cussed out or otherwise shunned. Plus, dude doesn’t know me and I don’t want to sound judgemental and so forth. There was a lady standing around and I didn’t want to put him on the spot in front of her.

So she became my out. I decided that if I said something, I’d only be embarrassing him; therefore, I should stay silent. Thirty seconds later, the lady walks away. If you know the Lord like I do, you know what that means.

The curtain’s up, and the Holy Spirit has given me the cue. If I don’t speak to the kid and show concern, I’ll be in the wrong (I don’t believe in “chance meetings”). I gave him the unmistakable sign of acknowledgement: the “wassup” head nod. I had the boy’s attention. With no one around and no one to perform or look tough for, he didn’t seem to mind my intrusion.

I had no idea how easy it would be to talk to the young dude. I just asked him how he got started smoking. It turned out that he had asked his brother if he could take a puff sometime in the spring of ‘07. He’s only 17 and now with a baby on the way, he smokes because it helps with stress.

I joked with him how he’d end up being one of those people who shiver in the January cold just to get one cancer stick in his system. He laughed. I asked if he had any real support for the stress- and just then his bus came. He said, “Aiight man- stay up” and ran off. So, that was that.

Upon his sudden departure, I paused to think some more on how easily he opened up. While I was debating whether or not to approach him, he seemed primed and read to be approached. I was wondering how many other opportunities I may have squandered out of fear of being perceived wrongly.

While pondering that thought, my eyes glanced downward at the litter sprinkled on the ground. A wax wrapper of Starburst, Bazooka Joe comic, and an extra sensitive Durex condom. Are kids running through condoms like candy? The irony of the earlier conversation was hitting me between the eyes.

I felt like I was a sociological CSI agent or something with the ground giving me clues to what was going on in the streets. I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or scared that the condom was unopened. Clearly a wall that once separated condoms and candy; protecting youth from consuming (and being consumed by) adult affairs had fallen.

Do not move an ancient boundary stone set up by your forefathers.
-Proverbs 22:28

Eventually, I may have to re-name this blog “Adventures with DC Metro” since much of it’s content is sparked by my interactions on it. But I can’t help it. I’m a life-long pedestrian and ever since riding the buses and trains in NYC, I’ve never grown tired of observing people on mass transit.

So just the other day I was headed home on the M6. This was the 8:20PM bus and not my usual 5:30PM ride. The bus was hardly crowded but a few youths chose to stand rather than sit. One man in a heavy winter coat sat next to me. I thought his attire was a little strange since it was 50-something degrees out. But I’m in my own zone and apart from his heavy breathing, I hardly noticed him.

Just as we crossed the Sousa Bridge on Pennsylvania Ave. and made the first stop, some girl sprang onto the bus from the back door. Immediately zeroing in on her target, she began raining blows on the young man’s head from behind. I mean, she was throwing some serious punches with all kinds of malicious intent. It was stunning to see but I was also trying to piece together how perfectly orchestrated this attack was. How did she know he was on the bus? How did she happen to be at the bus stop? What was behind this vicious attack? Would this dude hit the girl back?

As I pondered these and other questions, the police came on the scene. The bus driver had, inexplicably, stayed seated and kept the doors open for the past 3 minutes or so as this drama was developing. The police stepped on and took the boy away who’s main complaint seemed to be that his friends did nothing to defend/protect him from the 95-lb. wire-like female who couldn’t have been more than 15-years old. I don’t know what happened to her.

Some of this was humorous, but it was about to be tragically funny. When we heard the “woop-woop” and as DC’s Finest came on board the bus, the man next to me opened his mouth. His words confirmed what my nose had already picked up. “Hey man, you’re my witness. I’m an alcoholic but I ain’t started this [stuff]. I’m on parole and it’s [messed] up that I’m on this bus with an open canister. But I ain’t started this [stuff]. I mean, I’m just an alcoholic. I don’t mean no harm. But I can’t get in trouble for [stuff] these youngin’s do. I’m wrong for the canister, but I’m just an alcoholic!”

Even after the incident had ended and the bus was back on route, this man continued to crack jokes about his alcoholism and narrowly escaping parole status again. I really tried not to laugh- honest. But this guy was like the black version of Rodney Dangerfield- except his self-directed jokes were probably true. I turned to him just as he was leaving for his stop and said,

“Brother, you know you’re more than an alcoholic, right? I mean, you may be one now, but you can be more than that.” His response- “Man, I done did it all, smoked it all, drank it all. I ain’t better than anybody. It’s all [stuff] anyways.” Then he walked off the bus and into the night.

It was such a weird ride. I thought about the man who sat next to me and the wild fight between those kids. As I reflected, I realized this very sad and troubling circle. The kids were broken up by the cops and here this old man had just gotten off parole and narrowly escaped being arrested too for carrying an open cannister. Then it hit me: it wasn’t just the old man that I was sitting next to. It may well have been that young man too. If something doesn’t turn him (and/or that young girl) around, you may be reading another story like this in 40 years.

“Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before the days of trouble come and the years approach when you will say, ‘I find no pleasure in them‘.”

“At the end of your life you will groan when your flesh and body are spent. You will say, ‘How I hated hated discipline! How my heart spurned correction! I would not obey my teachers or listen to my instructors. I have come to the brink of utter ruin in the midst of the whole assembly.’”

Proverbs 5:12-14

So I walked into a kosher deli for lunch yesterday. I was pretty excited about it because I had only discovered this eatery yesterday and I’ve never eaten at a kosher place before. This was more of a sit-down restaurant type of spot so I had to order from the bar. I made my selection for the “Western” sandwich with chicken steak and grilled onions. Then I made what seemed to be a mistake but actually turned into an opportunity for reflection. I am “me” and the restaurant staff I spoke to is “Kosher Dude”.

Me: Is it too late to add a slice of cheese to my order?
Kosher Dude: I’m sorry sir, we can’t do that. This is a Kosher restaurant.
Me: Right, I know it’s Kosher…
Kosher Dude: We can’t mix meat with dairy.

Me: Oh-oh-oh! I forgot about that- sorry about that. I totally forgot about that part of it.
Kosher Dude: It’s okay, people ask for a slice of swiss [cheese] with their pastrami all the time. I’d like to do it too, but we can’t.

Me: By the way, why is that? I mean, what’s the reason behind ‘no dairy with meat’.
Kosher Dude: It’s part of the religion.
Me: Right, I understand that. But what is the purpose of that law? Is there a symbol involved or something?
Kosher Dude: It’s part of the religion. It’s illegal to do it.

Me: Right, I know it’s part of the religion. Buy why? What’s behind the law.
Kosher Dude: It’s part of the religion. Like, we can eat dairy but not at the same time. So if I ate what you’re eating and wanted ice cream afterwards, I’d have to wait two hours.
Me: That’s interesting.
Me to Myself: He still didn’t answer my question.

What amazed me was the simple fact that this man seemed to have (or need) no other reason to obey dietary laws outside of “It’s part of the religion”. As a Christian, I give all kinds of respect to the Jews since my faith springs from theirs. And as a Theist, I definitely respect devotion to one’s religious views. So please don’t read this a knock against the Jewish faith. My problem is when religion replaces reason and produces a life that can’t be bothered with questions. Here’s what I’m saying-

As a Christian, I’m expected to obey all kinds of laws and maintain certain standards. But no where in the Bible am I commanded to do so as if I were being programmed. If someone asks me why I worship on Sunday when the Sabbath was never officially changed from Saturday to Sunday, I should have an answer for that. If someone asks why I set aside 10% of my earnings to support ministry in it’s various forms, I should have a valid answer for that valid question. Saying that it’s “part of the religion” may be accurate in one sense, but it’s a shame to let a slogan replace thinking.

The 17th chapter of Acts introduces us to the Bereans, citizens of Berea, an city in ancient Greece. When Paul went there preaching the gospel, they didn’t just “accept it on faith”. Instead, we are told that they “searched the scriptures every day to see if what Paul said was true” (see verse 11). Indeed, the same man the Bereans were testing instructed the church of Thessaloniki to “Test everything” (1st Thessalonians 5:21).

The Christian has no business merely accepting whatever is preached from the pulpit and parroting it back to others. Some things we learn are just strange and it’s okay to ask questions. However, it’s better to actually search for the answers. Having the humble confidence to answer the questions of others is the best. Every person holding a Bible should prepare him/herself to have those answers in word and in deed.

On a personal note, this posting is partially dedicated to my cousin Paul in ATL. I was just visiting him last week and we spoke on this very subject. I’m not sure I would have seen so much behind a slice of cheese if it weren’t for that little visit.

So, I’m leaving the Green Line at Gallery Place Metro on my way to the Red Line on the upper level. Those reading this and familiar with DC trains know the mad rush involved at this particular metro.

I’ve got people walking on all sides of me including a petite Asian lady behind me, eager to get in front of me. She sees a fairly wide gap before me and as she attempts to pass me, gives me this look like, “Why so far behind and holding me up?!?”. While glancing at me in disgust, she nearly trips. The one thing she didn’t see: the suitcase in front of me being dragged by the lady up ahead.

D’oh!

I’m on the M6 riding back home on the same day. This lady is sitting next to me. She’s friendly and we speak although we’ve never exchanged names. In case you didn’t know, Pennsylvania Avenue is slow death if you catch anything after the 5:30PM bus from Potomac Avenue Metro Station. Fortunately, we’re on the 5:30 bus… but traffic is still inch-worming it’s way out of the District. We’re both commenting on it because when you need small talk, nothing is smaller (or easier) than easier complaining. Another 10 minutes go by and there it is- an accident just before reaching Alabama Avenue.

Seems like there’s always a reason why things don’t go like we expected. It appears that there is a logical explaination as to why we don’t end up where we’d like when we’d like to. Of course, the issue is not knowing that reason. The only answer is enhancing the most hated and dreaded virtue of all to our character: Patience.

The problem with patience is that no one wants to look like a sucker. Our fast-paced society seems to reward those who don’t wait but move aggressively to get what they want. Basically, we don’t trust others to do their part so it’s better to take matters into our own hands- immediately. But what if we were guaranteed a Partner who never failed and who’s timing was perfect?

Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him; do not fret when men succeed in their ways, when they carry out their wicked schemes. Refrain from anger and turn away from wrath; do not fret- it only leads to evil. For evil men will be cut off, but those who hope in the Lord will inherit the land.

Psalm 37:7-9

Disclaimer: I am a regular viewer of the O’Reilly Factor. Bill is a little crazy but he’s not a racist. In my opinion, he is predjudiced against most of pop culture (what do you expect from a dude who calls himself “Traditionalist”). While I usually respect the fact that he brings on opposing viewpoints, in this whole controversy with Nas, he’s just 100% wrong.

The Importance of Context

Ever read Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet? You know, it’s the story about drug abuse, wreckless youth and suicide. Have you ever watched the original Star Wars Trilogy? Sure you have, it’s three movies about how to build a space station big enough to destroy a moon and the dangers that rebels present when they try to stop you. Do you celebrate the 4th of July? You know, it’s the holiday devoted to fireworks and barbeques.

What’s wrong with the picture I’m painting here?

Yes, it’s true that people celebrate the 4th with fireworks and often have bbq’s. But is that what Independence Day is all about? No doubt, the many of the Star Wars charachters were preoccupied by the Death Star. But anyone who’s really up on the story knows that there’s more to it than that. Romeo and Juliet are, in fact, young people from the pen of Shakespeare who did indeed use drugs and ultimately committed suicide. However, the person who would argue that this is the essence of the story has blatantly misinterpreted the classic drama.

See where I’m going with this?

The lyrics from the recent O’Reilly Factor clip come from a song called “Shoot ‘Em Up” which is from the Nastradamus album circa 1999. First, I think it’s interesting to note that Mr. O’Reilly has to go back 8 years to find a song to criticize Nas about. The song wasn’t a single, it wasn’t a smash underground hit. And while the song has some very graphic, awful, and downright disturbingly negative imagery there’s one things to keep in mind…

It’s ONE song out of 15 on the Nastradamus Album (not to mention one of hundreds by Nas over the last 13 years). Sticking with Nastradamus, the song is not free-standing. The earlier songs give us a context or background to better understand the lyrics. For example, the clear message from a song entitled “The Life We Chose” explains the responsibility of each person to own up to the consequences of their actions whether that ultimate end be “heaven, hell, or prison”.

Even more to the point, the song “Project Windows” lets us into the mind of Nas who is utterly depressed and uninspired by what he sees in the ‘hood. Two songs later, we get “Shoot ‘Em Up” which is a story from the hood that is, no doubt, utterly depressing. There’s nothing said to glorify the shooting. Instead, it’s the reporting of violence. And Nas has already warned the listener that for such actions, the consequences will be severe.

As a Christian, the idea of understanding words in context is SUPER important. I am constantly battling people who love to point out verses from the Scripture that they claim support anti-woman, anti-semetic, pro-violence, pro-racist ideas. While stories from the Bible do in fact contain stories where evil is done, the Bible NEVER endorses evil itself but is only reporting it- and always in context.

While I don’t condone every word coming from the mouth/pen of Nas, I also know the difference between accurate and false accusations. I’m not willing to paint Nas with one color for the sake of an alleged weapons conviction from however long ago either. Nas is a complex character who has been accused of many things: self-righteousness, hypocrisy, poor business sense, to name a few. But one thing he’s never been accused of by anyone even vaguely familiar with Hip-Hop is being a “gangsta rapper”. That’ll be the day.

Bill, you’d do a lot better if you actually took the time to discover viewpoints that are completely foreign to your own. Stop letting your fear rule you. With the numbers you draw each night, your responsibility is too heavy to do such lightweight work when it comes to Hip-Hop.

Thanks to King Solomon, every Jew and Christian has reason to “consider the ways” of ant-kind for wisdom. My story is not within the context of diligence (Solomon’s particular observation), but you may find it helpful on some level.

So I’m running late for work and the late bus is running really late. Already mad at myself for being behind schedule, I’m annoyed when I look at the sidewalk and notice an abnormally large ant rushing my way. Part reflex and partly out of frustration, I stomp on the defenseless ant.

Lifting my foot to inspect the death/damage, I was surprised to see nothing on the pavement. Wondering if the creature had somehow escaped my foot, I glanced around quickly for the tiny carcass. Nothing. Kicking the sole of my shoe on the ground, the ant tumbles from beneath my Nikes. Somehow, by clinging to that which seemed to be the sure agent of death, he had survived. Interesting.

I notice the ant is curled up in a ball. He’s kicking his legs at a furious rate. Then it dawns on me that he might not be kicking his legs at all. Like how a chicken runs wild when beheaded, I start thinking that maybe the ant is dead or dying. My first instinct was to squash the ant again; just to put it out of it’s misery.

There I am, missing my bus but god-like to this ant having the power of life and death in my hand… or I guess my foot. All this is happening in the span of 6-8 seconds, but for a creature with a 3-4 month lifespan, human seconds may be like hours. I’m no Buddhist, but I did start to feel for the ant. I was about to inch over and finish him off when a very powerful impression came over me.

“Just watch”

So I did.

That ant never stopped kicking it’s legs. After about 4-5 minutes I noticed some definite changes. Our heroic ant was clearly straightening out of it’s circular posture. Also, the legs were still kicking but seemed to be less erratically. I didn’t see the same desperation in those limbs. I may be personifying here, but it’s as if the ant “realized” that he was near recovery and “knew” that he’d pull through.

I stood there completely amazed at the apparent tenacity of an ant. To be honest, I was inspired. At the same time, I felt foolish for stomping on him in the first place and then ashamed that I even thought about “putting him out of his misery”.

I wanted to offer him food or to help or to make amends in some meaningful way. But how do you apologize to an ant? How could I find out a way to help him? And that’s when it struck me: I may have been god-like to the ant, but I wasn’t like God by a long shot.

God has the power of life and death. I only had the power of death. God is not operating minute-by-minute based on whims and reflexes. Our Maker has been carefully executing a plan designed “before the hills in order stood or earth received her frame” to benefit all of humankind in the fullness of time. I was completely clueless as to how to help that ant but God knows all my needs before I mention them. Once I had recognized that initial stomp as reckless foolishness, I sought to repent. But the Judge of All the Earth can do no wrong. He is not a man that He should have need to change His mind (which is the real definition of repentance anyway).

So this episode, which normally would have been a throw-away moment, became a heart-warming encouragement for me. No doubt we have all felt as if life- or maybe even God- was stomping on us all of a sudden. Just as the perception of time is different between humans and ants, so it is with God and man. What seems like a long time for us is nothing for Him.

However, God is not helpless when it comes to rescuing us in our moment of despair. If we would only cling to Him, the thing that seemed our undoing may prove to be a valuable testimony and lesson for those observing us.