Vitamin Ezekiel

I confess.

I've been doing some slogging lately, and it's left me feeling quite dry. It's not just my personal life - although I am abundantly blessed, I'm equally blessed with a crowded schedule - it's also my internal dialogue that's jolted my sense of contentment.

See, I'm the queen of Putting Things Off. And there are a few things in my heart that need to be dealt with. Things like my Grandpa's recent death, for one. He must have impacted me even more than I know, because I'm stuck in the "numb" phase of grieving and can't seem to escape. Also, I should be dealing with things like boundaries in relationships, foibles in parenting, hiccups in my marriage, and of course, my thighs (it's a crime to be Woman and not mention this one.)

So it's clear I'm full up with shlup. I could really use an infusion of green tea for my soul, a jump start that would nourish me into action, clarity, and a svelte jogging suit ... or at least sneakers. But instead, my devotional life has kept me slogging, as well. Darn it all!

See, I started a Bible reading plan that works for me this year. And by "works for me," I mean there's a tolerable chance I'll finish the Book before the ball drops in Times Square six months from now. Which is great and all, if I measured Bible Reading Success in checkmarks and chapters read.

But, alas, I do not. I tend to open The Book with an internal prayer that goes something like this: "Heeelp!" And generally, when I loiter for months in the Psalms or 1 John, my prayer is answered in full. I come away ready for the slogging ahead, a spring in my step and the vision of a morning run nearly tangible in my revved up mind. God's Word has a caffeine-like, St. John's Wort-like affect on my soul ... I hear it can be addicting.

But. This addiction gets noticeably weaker when I discipline myself to slog, I mean read, through the Old Testament ... every word. Currently I've just finished wading through Ezekiel - not a wade I'd recommend when you're stressed. There are wheels ... lots of wheels. And eyes, kind of everywhere. Yes, there are angels, but they're not saying things I like to hear. And there are judgments. So, so many judgments. My brain hurts when I read about the evils of Israel, Egypt, Judah, Jerusalem, and every Tom, Dick, and Harry within fighting distance of the Holy Land. Finding a kind word is like gasping a breath of fresh air when you're drowing - never often enough, and too short for any real comfort. During this past week of enduring Ezekial, I felt as dry as the bones he prophesied over towards the end of the book - "Can these bones live?" Come on, God. You're kidding about good things here ... right?

But just as I sat poised to check Ezekiel off the list of inspirational books in my Bible, something hit me square in the heart. And it didn't hit me just once: It powed me 64 times in a row, just in case I wasn't listening.

It was so simple - so obvious! A little phrase tucked neatly in nearly every corner of this hodge-podge of a book:

"________ shall know that I am the Lord."

The blank could be filled in with Israel, or the nations, or whomever God chose address, but the motive remained constant ... and repetitive. God delivered the phrase after judgments, promises, statements about Himself ... you name it. He threw that phrase around like our generation says like. It was, like, everywhere.

And there, at last, sparkled my inspiration - staring me in the face over and over, a field of four-leaf clover in bloom. God delivers everything - the good, the bad, even the ugly (um ... even thighs) with the ultimate desire that each thing will help me know He is Lord. It's a dogged game plan, not too creative, but in Ezekiel, it comes to light as so Divine, so revealing, that it takes my breath away in a fury. I get the sense that Someone carved my initials with Theirs on every tree in the forest ... wrote 'I love you' on confetti and showered my street. I get the sense that this Someone lurks everywhere ... even in the slog through life as a grown-up ... telling me the brazen Truth about Him and His wild love for me.

And I'm smitten. Gone are the doldrums surrounding this plough through the Word, through the day, through tragedy, sorrow, and peace, toward my goal. For I've recognized that the Bible really does come alive ... as do I. In fact, we've both been alive all along. Kind of like those old bones. What seems dead to Ezekiel or me may really just be resting - waiting for the Divine hand of Love to revive it again ... to new life, new purpose, new joy.

And maybe, just maybe, a new route to jog ... in the morning.