...against all the odds, at the least likely moment, (or the most likely, if seen a-rightly) when The Story seemed the darkest and writer's block appeared to have wrestled the Author to the tomb, the Epic crescendoed in spite of everything, and He called those who once were slaves, "My Friends".
...and The Story only continues to crescendo, (though it seems to be pianissimo) and we wait to see it unfold, we Friends of The Main Character.
...wine in hand, or singing in church (though probably not at the same time, mores the pity :), or watching the cursor blink, or wishing the kiddos would be quiet for just a second so I can think, or hearing the alarm signaling "Wake UP!" [snooze...snooze...snooze...snooze, "Oh, alright!], The Well-Planned Script unfolds RIGHT in front of us, and no more.
...then, sometime, The Supper, The Lamb, His Bride, love, Love, LOVE truly will astonish us, and we will be astonished, I think, by its obviousness.
...and in the meantime, the Unobvious, the Mystery, the "I wonder", the "I'm a little unclear here, but onward and upward and higher and further, by hook or crook or (and I am thankful here) The Cross, the Tomb, the Throne." The to-be-glorified still waiting in this glorious mundane obscurity.
Peace of the Lord, in this meantime.
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