Susan LaffertyWinter trees. In crisp air at dawn. Stark. Branches bare. Empty.
The fog drifts in.
As I walk in fading darkness, I think about friends and family members who are suffering.
Standing weary. In the fog of impossible circumstances. Living with ongoing crisis. Conflict. Some with never-ending pain.
Cold and unrelenting winds whip through the lives of these loved ones.
And I ask how to pray.
What is His way for trees in winter?
Isaiah. Prophet and poet. Master of prose. Skillfully taking us to ruin and glory.
“The city of chaos is shattered;
Every house is closed to entry.
In the streets they cry for wine.
All joy grows dark;
Earth’s rejoicing goes into exile.
Only desolation remains in the city;
its gate has collapsed in ruins.”
Isaiah 24:10-12
Well-placed words. And we see the broken place. Grieve the curse that consumes the earth and its inhabitants. “…for they have transgressed teachings, overstepped decrees, and broken the permanent covenant” (24:5).
The crowds follow the fragrance. Looking for bread. Multiplying in His hands.
Fresh bread from the Master draws them. Like hot loaves from the oven.
But then. He speaks. Hard words. Strange to their ears. Threatening their loyalties.
