“They just lived too long ago.”  Faith seems to call us from another world...not the world of worrying about children, working late, scanning want ads, paying bills, wanting to be liked, being silly, being scared.  Publicly we root for pure hearts; privately we admit that the world has just changed and what can be done anyway?  Doesn’t survival count for something?   Mediocrity pulls more stubbornly than faith.  I know what to admire but secretly keep different counsel.

Can prophets like Elijah burn away this sense of defeat?  They who confronted wayward kings and were lifted up by fiery steeds.  What scrap of his mantle did I inherit?  What spirit did he leave behind to those who are resigned and skeptical?  To those who chalk such stories up to magic?  Those who balance faith with other investments and look for ways to break even or get ahead?   What spirit was given us?

Our public lives and hidden lives connect in many ways.  One sustains the other.  In prayer my needs line up in droves; I seek help, give thanks, and sometimes realize God’s nearness.  Who am I that God should love me?  Who is God that we should matter?  Truth comes to exist little by little in the moments spent apart.  And I am altered in ways I did not plan.  What goes beyond performance comes into view.  A gift that does not fit the usual slots of credit/debit.  A strange economy of joy, forgiveness, and a passion for justice.  It seems that those left behind were not forgotten.  Skepticism loosens, as we know a presence that runs deeper than doubts or debts.  We find words to speak and ways to act.  We change.