I could tell that morning had come. It wasn’t the light forcing its way through the curtains that told me. It wasn’t the cough from the children’s room, it wasn’t the dog yawning in her bed. Not even the fitful stirrings of my wife laying beside me told me. No, those things didn’t really tell me anything. Yet I knew that morning had come, and despite the inevitability of it’s arrival, I found myself heaving a deep sigh.

I knew that morning had come because my usual “host” was applying its usual pressure; a rhythmic throbbing inside my head that seemed to possess a twisted sense of delight, saying “it’s morning, and there isn’t a d#*$* thing you can do about it!” It pounds at my head, it pulls at my neck refusing to be ignored.

Another morning has come whether I like it or not. At least if I sit up, the throbbing in my neck will ease. If I get something hot to drink the headache will abate. If I move around and try to stretch a little, the other various pains will dissipate.

But physical aches are not my real concern. With the right spirit, they can be managed. Yet who can endure an ache of the soul? The bodily pains are just a symptom. The real ache is the God-awful reality that yet another empty, meaningless day has begun.

It is a cycle of futility, measured by the movement of the sun, marked by frustration, confusion and battles with despair. How can a man muster the courage to fight his way up a hill when he doesn’t even know which hill to take?

I feel as if I am in the middle of a vast, cold ocean. I look in one direction, then another, then another, then another, in a slow, 360 degree spin. Yet I can find no land in sight, only an infinite horizon all around me.

I don’t know which way to swim. So I tread water, circling, looking all around but taking no real direction. If I choose a course and pursue it with all my heart, I might be wrong. I might exhaust all my resources and drown–and if I drown, I’ll take my family down with me.

On the other hand, if I don’t choose a course, I will certainly drown. But what if I set off in one direction, go for it and at least try? No, no, I can’t. I know myself too well. Too many times have I swelled up with hope and enthusiasm only to start out–and then panic, change my mind and start swimming in some other direction. The result: I end up swimming in circles, one false start after another. And if I do that long enough I will drown even quicker than if I stay put, treading water. At least by treading I can conserve my energy while trying to figure out which way to go. Yes, that’s the thing to do. Don’t strike out until I’m sure which way to go.

But I can’t figure out which way to go! And if I don’t do something soon, I will drown. Time is running out!

Occasionally, I see a piece of drift wood off in the distance. It’s too tempting to resist, so I swim for it. Gathering some wood here and there helps me stay afloat. Besides, it takes my mind off of the confusion. It gives me the illusion of progress. But I know that the wood or an occasional broken down raft or other floating object is not the answer. They can’t keep me afloat. They can only afford me a short rest.

Drift wood and the like seems like a God send…. or is it? Am I wasting valuable energy swimming here and there and everywhere gathering up “drift wood” when I should be spending that precious energy on figuring out which direction to go–and going there?

So there I lay in bed. Morning has forced itself upon me. And with it comes the endless ritual of treading water, trying out one direction, getting confused and/or tired, backing up, trying another direction, searching, looking, pleading, begging, crying out for guidance.

But I get no answer. Nothing.

No sign pointing in the direction I should go. No plan, no guidance, not a hint or even a whisper. Not even a general principle from which to draw my own conclusions. Bodily pains I have relative hope of enduring, but what soul can withstand the cold vacuum of “nothingness”?

It is as if My Paper Jesus is slowly being freeze-dried and crumbled up by the cold “reality” that there is nothing out there. Is it true what they say, that the spiritual universe, much like the physical one, is essentially an enormous vacuum, deep, vast, empty and cold, so very, very cold? It may be punctuated by the occasional “star” of inspiration or “galaxy” of wisdom, but those little points of light are the exception. The very essence of the universe is that of overwhelming emptiness–and soul crushing silence.

That’s how my day started. Pretty typical actually. But after pulling myself up out of bed, and eventually finding myself in the kitchen, then the shower and then the car, I found myself at the library parking lot (it was time to try some job hunting). And there I was, struggling to get out of my car and get started when, despite my best efforts to avoid Christian radio stations, I heard a song on K-Love. Not just any song, but one where the lyrics declared “all my devotion to You.”

That was just about the last thing I wanted to hear. I could not possibly relate to a devotion so strong, so full of energy when I wasn’t so sure God is even there. It certainly didn’t feel like He was there, and I couldn’t point to anything that shows me He is there. Perhaps I needed to face the cold reality that I’m alone. Maybe like so many of my atheistic and agnostic friends and acquaintances (all of whom handle life much better than I do), I needed to buck up and stop acting like Winnie the Pooh, always looking for Christopher Robin to come in and bail him out. They would say I need to realize that there is no Christopher Robin; that I’m on my own.

Yet in the midst of that song Someone spoke to me. I kid you not. You must believe me, I’m not saying this to put a rosy, Christianee ending to the story. It really happened. What He said was, as usual, not at all audible. And as usual, it was brief. But it was clear, oh so very clear. And it was powerful, like a gentle whisper, like a light spring breeze. It was a spark of light in a dark tunnel. It was as if He said “get up.” That was it, just “get up.” And with that I felt this need to just put one foot in front of the other and simply trust Him.

My reaction, I couldn’t help but reflect what the song on K-Love was now saying: “I will serve You.” I said it out loud, I had to. But I knew full well the irony of that statement. I don’t have the foggiest idea how to serve Him. But that’s OK. Somehow, in the midst of treading water, still gripped by the fear of drowning, still confused (still a bit angry, truth be told), I could not help but say out loud, “forgive me Lord.” Even now, while telling you, dear reader, what happened, I cannot help but feel His love, His joy even. Joy in the midst of pain. Comfort even though I am still confused. Peace, even though my heart still wants to rage.

I guess now I can actually say, and say it with integrity, “this is the day that the Lord has made.”

I still don’t know which direction to go. I’m still concerned that I’ll do the wrong thing–or worse, do nothing–and then drown and take my whole family down with me. But at least the despair is gone…. actually, held at bay for now.

Epilogue: (or, Even More on This Subject)

In “The Lord of the Rings: the Two Towers” (movie version) Legolas the elf exchanges heated words with Aragorn, a fellow warrior. The situation at Helm’s Deep was hopeless, for a massive army, the likes of which that land has never seen before, was about to pour itself out relentlessly upon their refuge. Legolas declares that most of those who fled into the fortress are either too old to fight or too young, that they are farmers and wood choppers, not trained soldiers; that they are terrified–and that they will all die. Finally, Aragorn shouts at him “then I will die with them!”

Later Legolas apologizes, “it was wrong of me to despair.” Aragorn’s commitment to valor, to right and wrong, to defending Helm’s Deep and all in it to the point of death, won Legolas over. The commitment of one stirred up a renewed commitment in the other.

Maybe that’s what happened to me. Maybe the strong commitment declared in a song that says “I’m giving everything to You” was just the right tool at the right time for Someone to speak to me. That Someone was none other than the Real Jesus.

Yet again my “paper Jesus” failed me: my head knowledge crumbled under the weight of life. But when I opened myself up to God and confessed that my intellectual assent was being ripped to pieces, the Real Jesus met me in my hour of need. And this time all He said was “get up.” But it was lembas bread for the soul. (If I just lost you, click on “lembas bread” and read about it in Wikipedia)

What an incredible day this has been. I never would have dreamed that it turned out this way–never. It’s now time to relax and then turn in for the night. For once I’m rather eager to see what tomorrow holds!

Hey…. my headache is gone. Well, whaddoya know.

Isaiah 61:1-3  The Real Jesus will provide for those “in Zion” a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.

Isaiah 61:1-3 (New International Version)

Isaiah 61
The Year of the LORD’s Favor
1 The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me,
because the LORD has anointed me
to preach good news to the poor.
[author's note: does that sound rather familiar? Check out what Jesus read--and proclaimed in Luke 4:14-21]

He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners, [a]

2 to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,

3 and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the LORD
for the display of his splendor.

But my favorite moment these days is from “The Fellowship of the Ring” (the first movie) when our heroes are deep within the mines of Moria, skeletons of dwarfs everywhere, and the sense of danger is mounting quickly. As Gandalf the wizard reads the horrible last few dying words from a dwarf’s journal, a hobbit, Pippin, decides to fiddle with a dwarf skeleton perched on the edge of a deep well. Suddenly, that skeleton falls into the well.

Hearing the terrible clatter, Gandalf turns and scolds him saying, “Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!” For now all of their enemies are aroused and know exactly where they are. This is not good. This is very, very not good.

That  is my favorite moment in the movie? Well, yeah, actually it is. But allow me to explain…

First, it would probably help to add some background (those of you who are Lord of the Rings fans, bear with me):

In Rivendale Frodo, a hobbit, volunteers to go on a very dangerous mission. He knows that it is dangerous, but he also realizes that someone has to go. Gandalf is more aware than anyone that the mission probably will fail, or at any rate, all involved will die. Never the less, he volunteers to be Frodo’s guide,. For he also knows better than anyone how terribly important their mission is. Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli and Legolas, all mighty warriors, join the fellowship because of their courage and their sense of duty.

Then there are Frodo’s kinsmen, the other three hobbits. Sam immediately joins the group because of his intense loyalty to Frodo. He seems to have a vague understanding of the danger, but mostly he understands that his friend is in need of support. Merry, on the other hand, being quite adventuresome (well, at least for a hobbit at any rate), joins as much for the excitement as any other reason. Merry was just a tad naive about the whole matter.

But what about the hobbit Perigrin Took, known as Pippin? From the very beginning of their fellowship Pippin reveals his deep grasp of the situation by asking “where are we going?”

It was Pippin who shot off his mouth at the Prancing Pony and drew everyone’s attention to Frodo (this was prior to reaching Rivendale). Very bad idea. It was Pippin who kept wondering when they could stop and have “second breakfast” despite the fact that they were fleeing from the very dangerous Dark Riders. It was Pippin who helped build the fire that drew the Dark Riders to their hiding place in the mountain called Weather Top.

Fool of a Took indeed.

By the time Pippin pulled his little stunt in the mines of Moria, Gandalf had had enough. No wonder he snapped at the hobbit.

But then I compare that retort to another memorable exchange between Gandalf and Pippin. After many other adventures we find the two of them together again in “The Return of the King,” the third book/movie of the trilogy. They look to be in deep trouble during the battle for Minas Tirith, the white city. At one point Pippin says “I didn’t think it would end this way.”

Gandalf turns to him and replies, “End? No, the journey doesn’t end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take.” Gandalf says more, and the conversation comforts Pippin. Pippin goes on to do several noble things before their epic adventure is over.

Throughout the Lord of the Rings most of the heroes took up the struggle between good and evil out of bravery or a sense of duty. Pippin joined the battle out of stupidity. But at least he went. Throughout all of his travels and all of his trials and all of his battles Pippin did a lot of stupid things, but he did several brave things too. And when it was all over, and at last he returned to his home in the Shire, he was still Pippin,. But he was a much better version of Pippin.

I suppose the moral of the story is that even a fool, when willing to take up the Good Fight, will become a noble man –er, hobbit.

PS: Do you think that Peter understood what he was getting into when he signed up to follow Jesus?