I'm steppin' high today, somewhere between suffering servant, stern prophet, and normal guy. I'm thinking apocalyptically, yet with the safety and security of my normal surroundings.
Even though it seems like the totality of existence is out there, perhaps in the final war, it's nice to be safe and warm at home. I'm about to have a chocolate cupcake.
I'm picturing how dramatic it is, and I'm picturing the blessedness as well, the things of safety, like a valley that the chosen are guided through. But in the mountains all around we can hear it, the seven thunders, the words uttered that no man can understand, followed by a half hour of silence in heaven. It can be quite fearsome, but it's nice to know I have a good deadbolt on the back door.
One can picture oneself as the local prophet of truth, let's say. And this local prophet has given his stern warnings, has acted out a stern tirade against sinners and doubters. Then he retreats first to his valley, then advances up the mountain to watch the incoming storm. He pulls up his mantle to a point just under his eyes, and squints his eyes to keep out the blowing sand.
I picture all that. And it's quite inspiring. But it's also comforting to know that I don't have that long a walk to get home; there aren't any mountains around here. Plus, I'd rather stay home with my things.
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