My Book of Numbers

The land is rich and full of promise, green, alive with fruit. From atop the mountain I survey its wildness and feel that old longing for adventure begin to stir again. It's everything He said it would be, vast and beautiful.

But there are giants. Milk and honey, honey and milk, He said, but no mention of giants. Surely He never intended me to wrestle my inheritance from these ugly mountains of flesh! They skulk about menacingly, throwing rocks, beating the air, and a terrifying clump of them has me in their sights.

Ingratitude, Discontent, and Hopelessness lumber toward me, their message clear: you're trapped, there's no way out. Complacency camps out nearby, his fire inviting, his eyes hungry. Clutter and Chaos, those mischievous twins, dance in my peripheral, freckle-faced boy giants with relentless energy. And a puny ogre looms large before my eyes, blocking my vision of anything else. He introduces himself as Distraction, but he's just being polite - his real name is Idolatry.

Dull eyes bulge and meaty lips drip drool as they consider me, a mere morsel to be divided and devoured. Stubby fingers point, but not at me - they point at my God, and accusations slither from their tongues. "He promised, but He won't deliver! Sure, He's big enough to do it, but quite frankly, He doesn't care! Give up now - you can't win. Did He really bring you here to die? Forget about Him - pursuing intimacy with Him is like chasing a mirage. He isn't going to speak to you anyway. Just fill your life with Things and you'll be fine. And what's this 'peace that surpasses understanding' you're looking for? Impossible! You've got too much to do, and He'll never let you rest. Go back where you came from! Remember the good old days?"

And with that I awake from the trance of their lies. "Remember the good old days?" Oh, yes - I remember. True, we had food - enough to keep us alive and working hard. And we had houses to live in - but no freedom to leave them! I remember the weight of the burden, the sting of the lash, the bark of the slave-driver. I remember new life from my womb being ripped from my arms, my dreams drowned, my hopes buried. I remember my labor that was never enough.

And I remember - oh, I remember the blood of the Sacrifice that spared me from death! I remember how He brought me through the water unharmed, provided exactly what I needed for each day, went before me in the wilderness to guide and protect me, fought every battle to deliver me from my enemies. I remember how He made a way for me to relate to Him - me, the unclean, made right with Him, the Holy!

Go back? Never! So help me, I'll not waste a drop of that precious Blood! My steps may be feeble, but I'll advance - I'll go forward wherever He leads me. He's never welched on a promise before, and I believe Him - I believe! - when He says He never will.

I'm not alone. We're shoulder to shoulder. We raise our wobbling swords, and He - He rushes in,
and does the rest.