Chasing With The Ghost

Chasing With The Ghost

I was bothered by the Ghost this morning before my eyes had opened, but when I could feel the bed and knew the shape of the room around me.

What do you want?

I want to chase after Jesus.

It seemed at once so odd and so obvious. I smiled and opened my eyes and look up at the ceiling. 

You want to chase Jesus. Of course you do. 

My mind wandered into scenes where I imagined Jesus saying, “Follow me,” and as soon as I lean into the picture I realize that I am not sure where he is going. I used to think I knew where he was. He moved. He keeps moving. So now the early nudges of the Ghost remind me that I can’t follow the son of God around unless I have a tracker with me. A kind of divine bloodhound who is always on the trail.

Holy Spirit, I want to chase after Jesus with you today.

Making breakfast is like a ritual of activities: pulling out the milk, setting out the plates, choosing the pre-mix oatmeal, lining it up on the counter. I do all this so the groggy teenagers will be able to make it through this part on time. They can make their own lunches, but I still put most of that stuff on the counter as well. After some meet and greet with them I go down to the basement with my coffee and do my stretches. My hamstrings, I have determined, are just way too short. 

Up to the main floor my wife is awake, the sun is just starting to break the hard dark, and I give a few kisses and hugs, out the door for my morning walk. 

Jesus, where are you today?

Which direction are you going?

How will I know where to find you?

I know the Ghost is involved in this conversation. I am asking sincerely, expecting some kind of answer. I don’t really hear much, but I like the feeling of the way this early conversation is going. I've got the day ahead of me.

I crest a hill, the one on Walnut going over into town, and the sky is exploding with pink, orange, and pale blues. The ridge line to the east looks like it is on fire, and Pike’s Peak seems to be enjoying it all.

*Picture is from the barn at Storytellers, Johnny Cash's old farm south of Nashville.

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