The Great Escape

Ever wished you could don a cape, grab your magic wand and pull a furry bunny out of a hat? Or make a shiny coin appear behind someone's ear? Or turn a silk scarf into a snow white dove? I'm not sure how old I was when I read a book that caused me to think for a short while that I wanted to become a magician ... a book written by the man who is still considered to be, more than a century after he first began performing, the greatest magician, illusionist and escape artist of all time. The book was "Houdini on Magic," and it didn't take me long after I read the master magician's words to recruit my friends to assist me in my short-lived attempt to recreate some of Mr. Houdini's stunts. Suffice it to say that my ill-fated venture was squelched by Mom the day she found me hanging upside down from a tree in the back yard, twisting and turning as I tried desperately to free myself from the ropes my dear friends had triple-knotted around my feet and hands. Looking back on some of the stunts I attempted during my youth, I can't help but shake my head and acknowledge that it was only by God's grace that I survived.

I woke up tired this morning, perhaps because I didn't get to bed last night until well after midnight and then spent the rest of the night tossing and turning in less than restful sleep. After shoveling down some breakfast to still my shaking hands, I took my dogs, my Bible and a cup of coffee and sat out on my deck soaking in the cooler 60s temperatures that arrived in the night compliments of a passing cold front. I flipped through my Bible reading first one verse and then another, but I couldn't seem to concentrate or focus on any one passage. Thirty minutes or so passed, and I finally closed the blue, leather-bound book on my lap, stood up and called out to Julie and Ollie to come inside the house. It was cool enough outside that I was a little chilly when I placed my coffee cup in the sink and laid my Bible on the table, so I decided to climb into the shower and let the hot water warm me up. As the steam filled my little bathroom as I showered, I thought ... Well, it's Sunday. And as quickly as that thought entered my mind, I began to think of Sundays gone by ... Sundays when my kids lived at home and the hectic activity of trying to get them out the door so that we would get to church on time. Sundays when I had to be at church early because I was involved in a drama skit and needed to get miked and run through lines. Sundays when I co-taught the high school Sunday School class with a dear young man who always amazed me with his depth of faith and wisdom. Sundays when I fit ... Sundays when I belonged ... Sundays when I couldn't wait to go to church. Tears filled my eyes as I turned off the water, reached for my towel and thought ... I'm going back to bed ... pull the covers over my head and escape into the land of sleep. At the same moment the thought formed in my mind, my phone dinged that I had a text message. I rolled my finger across the screen to read it ... I read the message from my friend that said, "9?" I replied, "K" and headed into my room to get dressed.

It was dark in the sanctuary when I arrived and slipped in next to my friend as the voices of people singing in worship filled the room. I closed my eyes as I attempted to keep the tears at bay that quickly sprung to my eyes, and I gripped the back of the chair in front of me as I struggled to keep my composure. The senior pastor has been on sabbatical for the last few weeks, so the other three ministers on staff have taken turns delivering the sermons on Sunday. Today when the worship minister stepped on stage and began to speak, I sucked in a deep breath of air as I recalled another Sunday many years ago when he spoke ... a Sunday when he preached the sermon that started my journey toward a real relationship with Jesus Christ, a sermon about authenticity, a sermon about being real. Today, he talked about treasure ... today, he talked about heaven ... today, he talked about being a sinner. I managed to blink back my tears until the end of his message, and then the floodgates opened as he concluded by reading a passage from the book of Revelation ... a passage about heaven ... a passage about the end of tears and sorrow and pain. As I drove home after slipping out of the service following the invitation hymn, I knew from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet that God meant for me to be there this morning and to hear Him ... not to hear the words of the minister or the words of the songs or the words of my friend ... God wanted me to hear Him.

After I ate lunch, I played with Julie and Ollie for a while and then I put on my perfect PJs and climbed into bed to take a nap, sleeping soundly for almost 3 hours. Escape, I thought when I woke up ... sleeping is escape for me. I started thinking about how often I ponder the idea of putting Julie and Ollie in the car and just driving away and not coming back. I started thinking about Mr. Houdini and how he was always trying to create new and better methods to escape from more and more difficult challenges. I started thinking about that Sunday so many years ago ... I started thinking about church this morning ... I started thinking about God. 

Thank You, Father, for not letting me escape from You this morning ... thank You for holding onto me, for seeking me out, for keeping me from running away. Thank You, Lord, for not letting me ever escape from Your love.