by Elizabeth de Barros
The wild ride is over. The wheels might still be screeching until they fully lock, but the fun is definitely over.
Seems like only yesterday Wall Street was ablaze and Main street was hopping. Everybody was driving a shiny new car and kids’ dreams were guaranteed by their parents’ 401(k). With enough food on the table to go around twice, nobody worried. We just threw out what was left over. But that was back when nobody knew the meaning of compost.
Waking up these days feels vaguely like post-op shock. I’m moving a little slower, a bit more carefully. As I wander around the kitchen, I wonder, What happened in the middle of the night while we slept? Signs of another morning’s sunrise assure me that at least we’re still here.
I go to the Lord in prayer and I begin to muse. My mind fills with the events of the past century. And it is as though the Lord begins to comment, expressing His thoughts to me in what feels like an epilogue to a grand epic novel. Only this is an epilogue straight from His heart.
I begin to perceive history from a bird’s eye view. I see how, in 1969, He gave man another chance to soar into space and, for the first time, step foot on the moon. I see caves and how men learned to mine them for gold and diamonds. I see the finite minds of men and how they’ve fathomed scientific and mathematical truths, from Pythagorean Theorem to binary code. And I see concert halls where heavenly strings play to a crowd where otherwise there would’ve been stone silence. I see vast lands that have produced crops in abundance and where clear water bubbles up from the earth.
And I see the years when men went to work for an honest dollar and children were unafraid to play in the woods for hours. I see the time when mothers were content to be home to care for their children, where love existed around the dinner table, even if the meal was meager.
Innocence of an earlier time, an innocence now gone from the earth. And who can argue against this? Men no longer listen to His counsel. They no longer abide to wait for an answer. Instead, they rush headlong into the traps that are set for them and all are ensnared. He has seen enough bloodshed; not only of blood that has spilled out on war-torn lands, but the blood of His prophets and teachers sent from God.
Aside from Creation, I believe God’s finest hour is now come to consummate the ages. He has marked the ways of His people and underway is His winnowing fork working a final separation.
His final acknowledgments are written for those who have ears to hear Him saying: