Earning my Stripes

I can’t write. I would love to write. All I want is to write. I can’t write. I’m afraid. There are so many things I’m trying to keep from saying. Like, this isn’t the way I imagined my life. None of this was part of the plan. Sitting at a desk in a state office, 5 stories up, 5 miles away from the closest institution of higher learning, 50 miles away from completing my degree, spending 5 days a week doing work that is meaningless, buried under 500 times the amount of paper that I generate alone, getting paid 5 times less than what I should. Hair short, waist thick. Nope. None of this was part of my plan.
What happened to my figure? What happened to the jet-setting, play date planning, patience having, degree holding woman I was supposed to be?
No. I can’t write that. I can’t write the pain that I keep in my heart and head. I can’t write that I’m frustrated with where I am and what I’m doing; that I’d like to take the time to write, to work on what I love, to finish what I started but I spend so much time doing inconsequential stuff for people who don’t matter that, by the end of the day, I’m too tired to think. I can’t write how much pain it causes me to not be able to focus enough to read. I can’t write that. I can’t write that my frustrations increase when my son won’t go to sleep on schedule. Go to sleep EARLY, so I can do something for me. Attention grabbing. Needy. Toddler. I can’t write that. I can’t write that I want to cry because I’m so far away from revealing the truth about Black theology’s lack of revelation that I can’t remember what it was. I can’t write that my baby isn’t the center of my universe, that my books were and that, without them, I don’t know who I am.
I can’t write that.
I can’t write that I created the icon of Self-Reliant Amazon to make sense of my Being only to be left without being, without the Courage to Be because I’m so focused on giving Being.
No.
Not when I said the point of Being is to share the Self with the Other, to empty yourself of the Self so that the Other can be a self. I can’t complain that I’ve lost myself.
Apparently, Kenosis isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. Apparently, Kenosis is better left to those who can maintain their selves even in the midst of losing their Self. Apparently, Kenosis is saved for the Divine.
Yet, here I sit: too big for my britches, too many feet off the ground, too far away from every where I want to be; looking at files that aren’t mine, full of data that I don’t understand. I can pretend to be happy.
But I can’t write. Writing requires a connection with your own reality. It mandates the truth. And, to tell the truth, I’m miserable.
But I can’t write that.

I just want my Self back: That Self-Reliant self who stood apart and stood out, whose words carried meaning because she understood the value of words because, to her, words were everything. Yeah, I want that ME back. That Amazon who loved her fullness and her roundness and didn’t care who saw her or how they perceived her because all that she could be was precisely who she was. That Self-Reliant Amazon had so much to say, so much to pass on, so much to share. So full – of ideas, of hope, of dreams, of plans – that the fullness of her waist was irrelevant and the heaviness of her load immaterial. Yeah. That chick. I miss her. I miss me.

Truth, she said, is what writing requires. Words that carry honesty carry meaning. She didn’t say, though, that words full of falseness are toxic. She didn’t say that there’s no point to writing if you won’t write the truth – that it’s self-defeating, self-impeding to self-mislead. She didn’t mention that to the tens of listeners that hung off her every word wondering what they must do to write words for a living. She certainly didn’t respond that writing is a burden when they asked her if it is a gift or a skill. She failed to mention that writing means revealing, that it’s all consuming, self-divulging and selfishly so. No. She said that writing requires commitment. She forgot to say that words are jealous, commanding full attention, holding the pen hostage until they’ve had their say. Just write. And write with intention and strategy! That was her advice. And it was good advice, too, to those whose hearts aren’t bound by words, whose mind can force the words to take whatever form they desire. But for those of us who are captivated by capitals and punctuation, letter forms and sentence structure, whose pages seem to fill themselves because the words effortlessly ease from our fingers – out of our control, without our permission – intention and strategy are impossibilities. Write. Right.

Le mot. Dabar. Wort. The thing itself. The word. Il n’y a pas de chose autre. There is only the word. The word and nothing else. “In the beginning was the word,” he wrote, “the word and nothing else.” All being comes from the word. There is no meaning without it. The word is powerful; more mighty, it seems, than the sword. That’s the word. It’s all consuming, all powerful. It is. It is all that is. This word. The word. The thing itself.

Two days ago, two blocks away, two people lost their lives to two bullets and my pastor has yet to say two words about it. The earth shook and rumbled. The buildings fell. The mountains were tossed into the sea. All around, the earth gave way. The people cried out for help, they screamed for mercy. 40+ thousand lost their lives. My pastor spent his 400+ words describing his mood changes. He won’t ask for money for aid. But he will ask for help to get his name on the front page. Burn the mortgage, cut through the crisis so that the world will know his name. His fame is certainly his claim of service but for the publicity not for the needy. Surely, his glory will be cut as short as his stature. And the imagination of the nation held by someone more deserving whose need to be seen is less pressing than his ability to see those in need.

The lady in the cube next to me, in this suite of state employees, is racist. I wish I could say it better. I hate having to play the race card. But it is what it is. I hear her talking about her boss, a man of color. Wish he’d stay away. Wish he’d be more like me. Wish he’d lose that accent. And to her children: you’re pure. No mixing in our family. Your grandmother’s grandmother came over the same way you are today. You’re pure. So I really don’t mind that she doesn’t speak to me, it causes me no angst. I’ve heard how she thinks of me: young, Black, single mother, me. And I’m sure that it vexes her that I know what she does not. And I laugh as she and her sidekick try to figure out how to be where I already am. I could help. And I have offered. But I am, afterall, a woman of color. Impure.

Stripes. Tiger stripes. Zebra stripes. I can’t make up my mind which they resemble more. I do know, though, that my belly is covered in stripes. Stretch marks, technically. But they look like stripes to me. They’re evidence that my body stretched beyond its limits, into a strange shape and foreign form. They’re evidence that I carried a child – a big child, a strong child. That same child sees my belly and roars. Stripes. Tiger stripes, he thinks. My self has been bent out of form, stretched so far beyond its abilities, shifted, transformed, lost. Perhaps my soul bears the marks of this stretching. Perhaps, when my Self returns, my mind will be striped. Not plain, not solid. Stripes. But for now, I look for long shirts, high waisted pants. My stripes must stay hidden. Dark stripes on a round belly are hardly a sign of beauty. They are indicative of a choice, a child, a long hard 38 weeks and thin skin. When I see my stripes, I wish I could roar. I wish I saw them as a symbol of strength, a tigress, and hold myself in the same esteem. But I see only what used to be: skin that used to be tight, a belly that used to be flat, a navel that used to be pierced. Nostalgia. Is it possible to regain what you had and keep what you have? 9.5lbs of person lived and grew beneath these stripes, within these rolls. Can I keep him and be rid of the stripes? Or is there strength in admitting that, by these stripes, he is here? I’m unclear. Part of me sees the need to adjust to my reality as it is given. The rest of me longs for a me that ceased to be long ago. Stripes are evidence that change is constant. Too tight pants are evidence of resistance to change.
In a perfect world, with perfectly happy endings, I would raise up my hip-length sweater – too short to effectively cover my stripped gut – and marvel in awe and appreciation. Instead, I pull the tail of my sweater, hoping that it will stretch out of shape, become just a little longer, stretch over my greatly exaggerated hips and hide my stripes.
I tell my son, “You’re wonderful just the way you are.” But I can’t accept that for my self. If children learn what they live and I can’t live with my stripes, my child won’t learn to love himself – striped or plain. Perhaps, I’ll just buy longer shirts.

Dialogue

"I know you need a break
and your son needs a man
to show him how to be a man
so he doesn't begin to pretend
and imitate you, his mother.
It's my job. I'm your brother.
No. I haven't yet asked my wife
so give me a little time once you decide
to send him 200 miles
away
for a couple of days."

"Not a chance. No way in the world. So afraid are you of my son turning into a little girl - which is quite impossible - that you'd harm his psyche just to spite me. Or teach him to fight instead of play, to value his body more than his mind to devalue everything feminine. That's not the child I thought I'd raise. That wasn't my plan, that's not how I've ever defined a "man". So, I have to pass. I'll come up with a lame excuse, hoping you don't ever ask again. But no. YOU cannot have my son. Not for a few days, not even for one. No.
"Yes, I know I stay tired and my hands are always full. And I do realize that I don't get to do for myself what I would. But I do not need to take a break from the child that I chose to birth. My job is to teach him, I can think of nothing worse than to allow ignorance to reach him."

Damn. I shoulda said that.

Again

Who cares about Fredrich Schleiermacher
when your rent is due
and it looks like you may have to find another place to live.
Again.
When you're working but
it's not enough to pay the bills
and your brakes are shot
and your kid is sick.
AGAIN.

You want me to write what?
About what?
Who cares?

Next week is my snack week.
When is payday?
When will the state benefits come through?
Rent is due.
Daycare bill too.
Count the pennies.
Count the days.
Can we make it?
Again?


Down to that last drop of oil.
Can I borrow a jar?
I need to see how far this stretches.
Seems like it won't go too far.
Did I choose this life?
Is this the life I sought?
Worry
chases
dread
chases
fear
chases
sigh.

I'd like 2
but if my ends are still strangers with 1
how
can
I
AGAIN?

Gotta write.
Gotta get it finished.
Can't live this way forever.
Need to be in my field of choice.

Karl...
I think his name was Barth.
Barf.
Is that a cough?
He's still not sleep.
Focus.
Barth said...
or was it Kierkegaard?
Soren.
The philosopher.
Not the pediatrician.
I should e-mail her about his rash.
Right.
Write.

DuBois
Due bills.
bell hooks
Facebook: Is this normal? Should he be...?
C. West
I need rest.
Anna Julia Cooper
That was the dryer.

Focus.
This wasn't in the "Idiots Guide to Single Motherhood"
I checked.
It doesn't say your life will be great
until
all your bills arrive marked final notice
and your paycheck arrives with less and you notice
the kid's cough is getting worse
the refrigerator is getting empty
the laundry is piling up
the floor is filthy.
(Whatever happened to the dog?
Right.
Didn't have enough cash to bail out her escaping ass.)
No one wrote
that you'll choose a daycare that will teach your child
but you will go broke.
(Excellence costs cash
but sub par is more costly.)
I think I would remember if I read,
"all of those thoughts and ideas in your head
take second place to troubleshooting diaper rash
and travel snacks."
Even the "I-And-Thou" takes on a different meaning
when I am struggling solely for thou.
It could be profound
if I had time to stop and think about it.

Great band.
One time event.
On a weeknight?
Not a chance.
Our lives are so different.

Maybe if I
didn't do this alone
or had a partner
or child support
or didn't care about his mind
or lived in a different home
or had a different life
maybe
maybe
maybe

I could care about theories of pain
and neo-orthodox claims
and Schleiermacher's name
and Black Intellectual fame
and theology and race's game...
again.

My Coffee has Marshmellows in it!

At some point, I became a Mommy.
The birth of a child does not, in and of itself, make someone a Mommy.
A Mommy is different from a Mother. A Mother is the woman who gave birth to the child, who looked at her newborn like an alien and held it like it just might break. A Mommy is the woman who misses events because her toddler needs playtime. She's the woman who will hurt herself to make sure her child is safe. At some point, I graduated from Mother to Mommy.

My wardrobe, full of cute skirts and cuter shoes, has been whittled down to the pants and shoes most comfortable for chasing toddlers through hallways, across stores and down sidewalks. My menu encompasses only that which can be finger food... and only what he'll eat. Even my sensibilities have changed. Tight and short aren't sexy. Clothed, comfortable and confident are sexy. Thin and able to fit a proscribed size pants or someone else's idea of perfect is passe. Healthy. I'd give anything to stay healthy.

I'm a Mommy. My purse is full of toys and pacifiers. I get up at 4a to sneak a cup of hot coffalatte and write a few words on a blog. I finish neither because my son's cough wakes him up. I'm always on duty. Even my me time is Mommy Time.

And I couldn't be happier.

Loving it!

Furloughed, a four day weekend. Thrilled to be in it but dreading what the check at the end of the month will look like.
I'm supposed to be finishing up a paper on Black Intellectuals. That's why Salahaldin is at his grandmother's house, playing with her dog and with his aunt. But I'm taking these few moments of freedom to clean house, to bake and to ponder.

I lost a friend. Well, she was more like an acquaintance. A close acquaintance. She defriended me. I called myself hurt, then angry, then annoyed. Then I got over it. She took issue with the decisions I made for my family. Every decision. Every time. In reality, though, her biggest issue was that I had a family. By myself. She's a single mom, too. But it's nothing she would've chosen. She had a hard transition. And mine was just too simple. I was thinking about her: her words, her spitefulness, her problems.
My dog ran away. On a work day. As I was running late. She got out. She was picked up by the cops. They took her to doggy jail. They called me. They want more money than I have - or for me to go to court - to get her out. To me, that choice looks like: Feed my son or get my dog from the pound. Miss a day of work to get my dog from the pound or be able to pay my rent. So, for me, the choice is simple. But I miss her. And I was thinking about her: her spirit, her problems.

I decided that this past year was the roughest year of my life. And I would do it all again. I would change some things, if I could. Like my dad dying before my son was born. The timing of when I moved home. But, for the most part, every minute of it has been worth it. I love my life. Bills are overdue. Notices placed on doors. But I love it. I have an amazingly brilliant, sweetheart of a son. I wouldn't change a thing about his life. I have never in my life had so much fun. Sure, there's plenty of stress - more than enough to share. Sure, there's plenty of disappointments. But my son has made living a thrill.

Question is... do I want to share that thrill?????

Back and Forth

Can't. Keep. The. House. Clean.

I woke up this morning and decided that whatever plans I had needed to be forsaken for the sake of cleaning the house. First step? Putting away all the dang matchbox cars. The damn cars are everywhere, rolling away when you least expect it - at 5am, in the semi-dark - and some of them are creepy enough to even make noise. So, I collected the ones I could see (and, yes, there's at least 5 more unseen for every one you see)and unceremoniously threw them in the "car box".
"Dooba? Dooba?"I hear, coming from behind me.
"Hey!" with excitement as he realizes that all of his little cars are in one place. Before I could return with the hard-paged books that have swarmed my house, the car box is emptied.

HIGHCHAIR TIME! Of course, that's my solution to the go-behind-Mommy-and-make-a-mess events. Of course, I am deluded enough to think it'll work. Of course it doesn't.
Little boys in highchairs eating baked goldfish should not be a problem... in theory. But, of course, this child discovers that EVERYTHING can be thrown off the tray and does so. I can't be mad at him for cleaning his tray. And I wasn't. Until I saw the school of tiny, baked goldfish on my newly vaccuumed floor!

When the heck is nap time?!?!

Between the Lions

September 13, 2009
Shorter Community AME Church

Text: Daniel 6:16-28
Title: Between the Lions


Scripture:
So the king said so and Daniel was then brought and into the lions’ den he was thrown. The king answered Daniel, saying, “Your God, whom you serve faithfully and consistently, will deliver you.” A rock was brought and placed in the mouth of the den, and the king sealed it with his ring and with the rings of the nobles, so that nothing might be changed in Daniel’s case. The king then went to his palace and spent the night fasting; no diversions were brought to him, and his sleep fled from him. In the morning, at the earliest sign of daylight, the king got up and hurried to the den of lions. As he approached the den, he cried out anxiously to Daniel, “Daniel, servant of the living God! Has your God, whom you serve faithfully and consistently, been able to deliver you from the lions?” And Daniel said, “O king, live forever! My God sent an angel and told the lions to shut their mouths, so they haven’t hurt me. This is because, before God, I was found innocent; nor have I done you, O King, any injury.” The king was overcome with joy and ordered Daniel to be brought up out of the den. So Daniel was hauled out of the den of lions, and he was found to be completely unharmed because he had trusted in God. Then, by order of the king, those men who had slandered Daniel, together with their children and wives, were brought and thrown into the den of lions. Before they reached the bottom of the den, the lions overpowered them and crushed all their bones. King Darius wrote to all peoples and nations of every language that inhabit the earth, “May your peace increase! I hereby decree that everywhere in my kingdom, people are to revere and fear the God of Daniel, for God is the living God who endures forever. God’s kingdom will never be destroyed; God’s authority will last forever. God rescues. God saves and delivers, doing signs and wonders in both heaven and on earth. God has rescued Daniel from the power of the lions.”

BETWEEN THE LIONS
Introduction
I have a secret passion for tools. Secretly… well, used to be before I told y’all, Home Depot and Ace Hardware are two of my favorite stores just because of the tools. I love to look at them. Home Depot, especially, has all kinds of tools. The vast majority of the tools, I have no idea what they’re used for. The rest I’m sure I have no use for. But they have lots of really nice tools and a wide variety, too. They have power tools, power-less tools, itty-bitty tools, giant tools. My favorite tool of all times is the giant screw driver – that someone told me is really a crow bar. I like it just because I like to imagine the giant screw it would turn. The problem with tools, though, is that the right tool in the wrong hands creates quite a mess. (If y’all ever see me with a saw, by the way, feel free to take it from me….) This is especially true when that tool is not well, a tool, but a person or an entity. Such is the case in our scripture for this morning.
This story of Daniel in the lions’ den is a well-known and often told tale. Daniel, in his piety and faithfulness, is set-up by a group of malcontents. You know the type: like a person who yells out “you lie” during a speech urging justice and care for the have-nots, or the people who see you doing something they’re not and figure you must have something they don’t and aim to mess with all you are. We call em haters – like Eminem to Nick and Mariah or Glen Beck and the 9/12 project to President Obama – people who just stir up a lot of mess just to mess with your character. And ain’t nuthin worse than haters with power… like Daniel’s haters. They convinced a king to think more highly of himself than he ought. They convinced a king to declare himself worthy of praise. They convinced a king to participate in their hate. And so Daniel was sentenced. The king came to his senses but it was too late. And so Daniel was thrown to the lions.

Begin between the Lions
The lions. So often, when this story is told, the lions are portrayed as mere tools. They are the means through which the haters intend to do Daniel harm. Very little is said of them in the text. They’re just lions. Minimized, glossed over, used. Tools.
Sometimes, we’re tools too: used by haters to further their agenda. We get caught between a hater and a trouble-maker, used to hurt the hated: lied to so we get involved in drama that wasn’t ours to begin with; gossiped to so we know business that we had no business knowing; squeezed in the middle of a feud, used by one to hurt the other even though none of it has anything really to do with us in the first place. Tools are placed in the precarious position between hater and hated, used to cause harm and make trouble. And at the end of the day, the tool is discarded, minimized, glossed over. But the lions have a story, too. Let me say that better, everything in the Bible can teach us something about God; everyone in the Bible can show us God’s love… even the lions.
The lions, in our text, were native to Persia. See, the Persians, especially the royalty, had a thing for lions. For them, lions represented power and prestige, greatness and glory, force and fertility. Lions were everything the kings wanted to be – and everything the people expected their kings to be. So, they captured them. They bred the lions, keeping them as pets in dank, underground caves. They separated newly captured lions and older males, keeping in cages so they’d be ferocious enough to earn the king kudos after a canned hunt. Lions were trophies, icons… tools.
We know that the lions in our text for this morning were domesticated lions (in Hebrew, there are 2 words for lion – “shachal” is meant to evoke fear and used to connote ferocity, the other, aryeh, is found in our text, it is used to denote a tamed or conquerable lion). They were not fresh out of the wild but were descendants of lions who had been captured probably early in Darius’ political career. More likely than not, they were mostly young male lions and older lionesses.
When we think of a lions den, we tend to think of the Big Cat enclosure at the Denver Zoo. We imagine plush habitats, full of grass and trees and water on the outside and a respite on the inside, with a trainer who comes to provide exercise and a veterinary nutritionist who provides balanced meals. Yeah… no. The Persian lion dens were nothing like that. They didn’t keep lions on display for amusement and entertainment. They kept lions for the bragging rights. The lions were kept in underground caves with two entrances – a large one at the base of the cave where waste and older lions could be removed and one at the mouth of the cave that was just big enough for a human to fit through but too small for a lion. The walls of the caves were steep and slippery to prevent the lion – or anyone else – from climbing to the top entrance. Both entrances were kept covered by stones. The lions had very little light, very little heat. Often, according to the historical record, Persian kings like Darius would keep one full pride of lions in the same den. That means 30 or 40 lions would be trapped together in an underground cave, waiting on food to be thrown to them, waiting to be removed to cages to be hunted for sport. It kinda reminds me of a slave ship, packed to the brim with humans treated inhumanely. So, the lions were captured, and captive. Trapped in a situation not of their own making. Everything that made them lions was taken from them. Unable to hunt for their own food, unable to care for their families, they were bored, unable to roam, unable to get comfortable, stacked on top of each other.
Far too often, we find ourselves in caves just like the lions. Oh, we don’t end up in literal caves, but we’re trapped in our circumstances. Even this morning, we’re trapped by this “Global Economic Crisis” with low salaries and high costs of living, we’ve seen our 401(k)s go kaput and our 457 dbs and dcs depart. We’re ensnared because our resources don’t meet our needs, so we’re stuck tryina do too much with way too little. We’re confined by furloughs and foreclosures, unemployment and under-employment. Some of us are captive in jobs we can’t stand because, in this economy, you just don’t leave a paycheck. Some of us are stuck in bad relationships, put down and shut down, broken without hope for escape. Just like the lions, we’re caught in hard times and hard lives, trying hard to hold on to who we know we are; pacing, back and forth, wondering just when it will all end.
Thanks be to God that even in the midst of our captivity, even in the midst of our trials, God knows us. God claims us as God’s own. God knows the beginning of our story. And God knows the rest of the story. God protects us from dangers seen and unseen. Even in the midst of our trouble, God is present. When it seems like there’s no way out, God is keeping you. When it seems like the night will never break, that morning joy will never come, God is bringing you through it. Even when it seems like there’s dangers on every hand, God is protecting you. Though times are hard, God is strong. Though people are harder, God is enduring. Though lives are troubled, God speaks peace. The caves can’t keep us down. God lifts us up on every side. The ties that bind can’t hold us back. God loosens every chain. God is aware. God is awake. God is alive. God is the One who answers those in need. God is the One who we can rely upon. God is the Great I Am. God is that God is. God is Jehovah Shalom. God is there in the midst of despair. God is Jehovah Rapha. God is there in the midst of the distress. Yahweh Shammah – God is there in the midst of anxiety. There is no speech, there are no words that God does not hear. You can call on God when you’re lost in loneliness. You can call on God when you’re stuck in stress. You can call on God when you’re trapped in trouble. God will answer when you call. God will deliver you. God will rescue you. God will save you. God will restore you. God will bring you into the joy of God’s salvation. Stand still… better yet: Desist and realize that God is God.


Shut Your Mouth!
And along comes Daniel.

By the time the lions met him, Daniel was a senior citizen, he was 80 years old. Even in perfect health, he wouldn’t have been enough to feed an entire pride of lions. Can you picture it? A den full of hungry lions. Suddenly, they hear a noise. The stone is being removed. That means food. They all move, ready to pounce, ready to eat. And down comes this scrawny little old man. I called my personal animal expert and he said lions communicate with each other; he said they have 6 or 7 different sounds and hundreds of movements that convey their thoughts to each other. So I imagine the discussion between the lions, in their lion speech, when they saw Daniel. “How one little man gonna feed all of us?” “What are we supposed to do with that?” “As hungry as we are, this is all they got for us?” The questions, the confusion….
My personal animal expert told me that the lions would’ve seen Daniel as a threat to their well-being. They would’ve mauled him, devouring flesh and bones as soon as they saw him, just because he entered their territory. He said that, at feeding time, Daniel wouldn’t have had a chance for survival amongst a group of lions. But the Bible says before the lions could attack, before they could reach a group consensus, God sent an angel and told them to shut their mouths. I imagine the angel reassuring them, “This is a man of God, he will not harm you. God is using you for a blessing. Shut your mouths.”
We’ve been there: Unemployed for months, you finally get a job offer that’s not even enough to pay the bills and, before you can turn it down, God says, “I’m using you for a blessing. Shut your mouth.” You’ve been paying your rent faithfully but your landlord hasn’t been so faithful with his mortgage payments, before you can get to the phone, God says, “I’m using you for a blessing. Shut your mouth.” Your ends have always been strangers, they’ve never met; what looks like a golden opportunity comes your way, you’ve just got to act now… God says, “I’m using you for a blessing. Shut your mouth!” You break-up with that guy and he marries the next girl he dates… God says, “I’m using you for a blessing. Shut your mouth!” You’ve got just enough in your pocket for one meal and that’s all you have until payday which is still five days away, you see a man with a sign that says, “Please! I’m hungry!” God says, “I’m using you for a blessing. Shut your mouth!” When you don’t know why you are where you are and wish you are anywhere but there, God says, “I’m using you for a blessing! Shut your mouth!”
I call em Daniel Moments – just when we think we’ve had all we can take, that our morning must be breaking, we’re thrown a bone… not a steak, a bone. We look at it, like the lions, and say, “What am I supposed to do with this bone? I got a family to feed!” Sometimes, though, it’s not about us. Sometimes, though, God is using us to bless someone else. Sometimes, though, we’re not the main characters in the story. Sometimes, though, we’re just the lions. Sometimes, though, we get to sit on the periphery, pausing, while other people get the prize. Sometimes, though, we get to be told, “Shut your mouth.”
See, a Daniel Moment is God giving us the chance to be obedient. In Daniel Moments God is providing us with the opportunity to be faithful. In these Daniel Moments, God is saying to us, “I am still here. I still know your need. Trust me.” In these Daniel Moments, we’ve got to stand still and know God. In these Daniel Moments, we need to trust in God with all our hearts and lean not to our own understanding. In these Daniel Moments, we should wait upon the Lord and trust God to renew our strength. In these Daniel Moments, we’ve got to remember that God’s grace brought us this far and God’s grace will lead us home. In these Daniel Moments, we should remember that the Lord is our shepherd and we shall not want. In these Daniel Moments, we need to be faithful over a few things. In these Daniel Moments, we’ve got to seek first the kingdom of God and acknowledge God in all of our ways. In these Daniel Moments, we need to be strong and of good courage and wait on the Lord.

Come in between the Lions
The lions were faithful. The lions were obedient. Look at the text. The Bible says Daniel was pulled from the lions den without a scratch. He went unharmed. Just a note: when even the little you had is suddenly gone, be patient, God is doing something. And so it was with the lions. Hungry, their only hope for a meal is a little old man whom God said they can’t eat and then, suddenly, even he is gone. I don’t know about y’all, but if that were me, I’d be a hot mess. “O God! What am I supposed to do now?” But the lions weren’t anxious. The Bible doesn’t say the lions jumped up after Daniel as he was being pulled out. It doesn’t say his feet were all scratched up. Nope. Lions don’t operate like that. Nope. The lions were patient, trusting God to meet their needs. The 104th Psalm says that the animals look to God for their food, that God provides the lions with meat. Even in captivity, the lions knew that God would provide for them. Even as they were being played as pawns in a kingly game, the lions were sure God would provide for them. Even when their meager meal – that they couldn’t even eat – was taken from their sight, the lions trusted God to provide for them. Amongst themselves, with their 6 different sounds and hundreds of different movements, the lions trusted God to provide for them. Between the lions there was faith. There was hope between the lions. Between the lions there was complete dependence on God. There was trust between the lions. Between the lions there was a blessed assurance. There was confidence between the lions. Between the lions there was peace. God stood between the lions. God provided for the lions more than the meal they let go. God gave them more than they knew how to desire. The Bible says the lions were given the entire families of those who plotted against Daniel. It says the lions overpowered them before they hit the ground, before they could run, before they could prove themselves a threat. My personal animal expert said this was aberrant behavior for lions. He said lions aren’t supposed to act like that. He said lions will retreat from groups of people, out of fear. But these lions were not afraid of these people. These lions had been visited by an angel. These lions had prior counsel with God. That’s what it says. It’s in the Bible. The angel of God was there with the lions and the lions obeyed. And because of the faithfulness of the lions in their Daniel Moment, God gave them power over many things.
Sisters and brothers, just like the lions, God is with us. Just as God provided for them, God provides for us. God will not leave us in our times of despair. God will not walk away from us when we are in need. God will help us and that right early. This isn’t a hope for a by-and-by promise. Nope. The Bible says that right here, right in this time, right in this era God will provide for us – God does it for the birds, God does it for the flowers, God will do it for us. God is alive and the living God knows our needs. The living God is an ever-present God, Emmanuel, with us in our captivity, Emmanuel, with us in our Daniel Moments. God is the Alpha. God is the Omega. God is the beginning. God is the end. God is peace. God is freedom. God is justice. God is the pillar by day. God is the fire by night. God is the way maker. God is the director of paths. God will rescue us. God will deliver us. God will cast our haters aside. God will place our enemies at our feet. God hears our every prayer. God prepares the proper and the proud to praise. God brings peace to our frenzy. God alleviates the burden of the hard times. God gives us relief in our journey. God releases us from our traps. God is our refuge and strength. God is our light and our help. Our fate is in God’s hands. Be strong and of good courage! Trust in the Lord.

On Tools
One day, when I was a little girl, I went in my mom’s room and found these wonderful parachute cape things. They were great! I could pull them over my head and spin around and around and they’d just billow up. I could put one side under my foot and run underneath the other side and hide. And, if I tied it just right, it could be a cape, like Wonder Woman’s. My mom had a white one and a gray one and I loved them. One day, as she was running around the house trying to find her clothes, she caught me playing with one of her parachute cape things. Yeah…that’s not what it was for. Turns out, it was a skirt. I was misusing it.
The lions were misused. Daniel’s haters were using the lions to hurt Daniel. The king was using the lions to prove his power. Yeah…that’s not what they were for. See, King Darius issued another decree. In the second decree he overturned everything he said in the first one. In the second decree, Darius gives all glory and honor to God. In the second decree, Darius says about God what Persian kings – who have defeated a lion – used to say about themselves. God will reign forever! God’s power is indestructible! In their faithfulness, the lions had taught the king a lesson about power. The lions had demonstrated God’s power and strength. God blessed the lions. And God used the lions to provide a blessing for Daniel. God used the lions to prove God’s power and bless the people of the earth.
And so it is with us. When are caught in the middle of a hater and a trouble-maker, squeezed between the hater and the hated, forced into the middle of mess, God uses us. God uses us as tools for God’s glory. God uses us to bless other people. God uses us to change the situation. And when we are obedient to God, when we trust God enough to let God use us, God blesses us. Even when we’re not the main characters in the story, God blesses us. God fixes the story, God alters our narrative.
God wants to use us. God wants us to be faithful. God is looking for our steadfast and consistent service. When we are obedient to God, when we are used as God’s tools, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, caring for the sick, we show our faithfulness. When we allow God to use as tools for God’s glory, we will hear God say, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”
God provides. God will provide for you. God knows your every need. Jesus said trust him. Trust God to provide for you just like God provided for the lions, just like God provides for the birds. God hasn’t brought you this far to leave you. Trust in the Lord, be faithful and your peace will be increased. Be faithful and let God work through you. Allow God to use you for the Glory of God. You will be blessed. You needs will be met. Trust God, be faithful even in the midst of trouble and God will rescue you.