With all the sharp-edged words flying around the airwaves like aimless shrapnel in a world of lost boys, I’m reminded by these now aged and well worn words that there is a sanctuary for all who are moved more by the howling winds of creation’s longing (Rom. 8:19) than they are by the passing winds of promise-panting change. There is still a hope that sinks beneath the surface and stretches beyond the skies, but it is a hope that makes no alliances with the pride and violence rolling off the tip of this world’s two-pronged tongue—for, indeed, there are things that simply do not belong in a Garden.

I’m not sure there’s anything left to fight for on the battlefield. Perhaps it is time to begin leading people back to the trees…