The mountains are trembling

Can you feel the mountains tremble?

This morning I believe I can. The mountains above me are moving around like something is wrong, something is amiss.

Oh, the pollen has slowed to a mist, and it is a Friday. Common Friday. Oh, it is a Friday, and the pollen isn't a tsunami any longer, but more like a drizzle. Really. It is but a drizzle, and there is no constant washing of windows. We are going to be okay. It is April 11, and the sun has climbed to the top of the sky, and I can see God's handiwork smiling at me.

Charles Spurgeon wrote of the spectacle of the cross these words: "Did earth or heaven ever behold a spectacle of suffering, grief, and woe more sad than that of the cross! In his soul and His body our Lord felt as weak as though He were "poured out like water" upon the ground. When His cross was lifted and then suddenly dropped into its hole in the ground, He was violently shaken. Every ligament in his body was strained, every nerve felt pain, "and all his bones were out of joint."

It was as though humanity had suddenly been asked to vote and all of humanity tried to raise its hand and in the raising of humanities hand, joints and such were suddenly misaligned so as to instantly cause pain.

And what were we voting on?

Something as radically simply as our future.

We were asked to vote on our future. To a person we voted to have one, a future I mean.

Can you feel the mountains tremble? That's us saying to our Lord, save us Jesus. Allow us the privilege of living.

Whether he answer.