Last Exit Before Oblivion

"We have a problem."

You know that when you hear that, the "we" is just filler. Used because the speaker doesn't have the guts to put things flat on the table: "YOU have a problem, and YOU need to do something about it. The problem is described in detail and you're left alone to fix it.

Maybe it's a real problem, more likely not, being some made-up bureaucratic idea of a problem. Still has to be fixed, and it's in your lap. No matter how many other people are involved. No excuses. Fix it.

So, I'm lying in bed, looking at mountains. Somehow I have to find a way up and over. The reward will be more mountains, but it's still the mandate. You follow Jesus, you climb mountains on rough trails. One foot before the other. While fighting off the dragons that defend the high places, and carrying a load of old ideas, while depression adds concrete to the shoes.

The natural question is "Why bother? I'm going to lose anyway." Not much point in climbing mountains when all there is on the other side is another damned mountain. Might as well be on a treadmill in a gym. At least that place is air-conditioned.

I'm quite used to the "We have a problem" statement. Job, home, whatever. See a problem, fix it. Help is hard to find. I do it myself or don't.

Some voice whispers "We have a problem." A gentle feeling steals through my tense body. More lies? "We..." God speaks.

He knows whereof he speaks, too. This is no euphemistic, blaming "we." This is the Word. This is the conscienced brawler who saw the problem in all its details and would let nothing stand in the way of fixing it. "We have a problem, and I'm the One who can fix it." Jesus came into our world, muscle and sweat and bone just like the rest of us, and made the problem His.

I can't tell you how new an idea this is. I'm so used to doing things alone than any other way is a shock. I'm astounded. The God of the Universe coming to me, sleeves rolled up and ready to sweat. We.