...BUT HOW DID IT WORK?

Occasionally I will happen upon a show on TV which seeks to explain through science miracles described in the Bible. I have suffered through portions of such science-based explanations of the parting of the red sea, the destruction of Sodom, and even the resurrection of Jesus. Most recently I watched a portion of a show about the Ark of the covenant, which was portrayed as some sort of ancient weapon of mass destruction. The narrator asked, "...but how did it work?" as though the secret could be found in its design or component parts. Different possibilities were explored by various scholars including one theory that Moses placed something radioactive inside the ark and another that the chafing of the wool cloth against the gold-plated ark generated dangerous amounts of static elctricity which was unleashed at various times. This was their explanation for the death of Uzza, who famously reached out to steady the ark as it was being improperly transported, and was truck dead on the spot. ZAP! It was the static electricity that did it! Nowhere was the possibility of the Divine attributed to the ark as the source of its power. It was painful to watch and I eventually changed the channel.  I'm not opposed to science. I believe that science and worship are friends that do not need to be reconciled, but the world seems determined to turn these two friends against one another. It's troubling to watch.

Uzza, NOOOOOOOO!!!

TRADING EYES

Before you walked into the room, and took a seat near the door, I was at peace. I was filled with joy. But once I saw you there with that look on your face, and your eyes sliding around the room, I somehow stopped seeing through my own eyes. I even stopped thinking my own thoughts. I looked on the scene anew, as though through your eyes, and, instead of my own mind, I found myself trying to live in yours. I became troubled at what I saw through your eyes. What I saw tempted me to be ashamed of the family.

I decided that was wrong so I put you out of mind, as much as I was able.

It's not that I don't care what you see and what you think, (I actually care about that sort of thing quite a bit. In truth, I care about you quite a bit as well.) but if I am to be at peace I must see through eyes that have been opened and think with a mind that has been renewed. Why would I trade my eyes for yours? Why would I blind myself? I know what darkness looks like. I have seen it before, and I don't find it novel.

 The truth is the truth no matter what angle you look at it from. It is not a matter of perspective. Truth can be embraced or rejected and that is all. Nothing else can be done with truth. So see what the Spirit has given you to see, and think what you will. I'm tired of going to so small and uncomfortable a place as your mind. Such a place I would liberate you from, but not at the cost of being enslaved there myself.

ROMANS 5:8

DISCERNMENT- A PERSONAL MANIFESTO

Lord, is that Your voice? Or is it mine? Do these ideas originate from within or from Without? Are they from Above, or are they from the depths of my own sub-conscious? Do they reflect my desires or Yours? Do they seek my glory or Yours


It is difficult to say.


It would be arrogant, even blasphemous, to attribute a statement of my own creation to You. I don't want to do that. Even if it is Your voice, how can I be certain that I rightly understand what You are saying? Does my interpretation fly wide of the target? Is it errant?


***   ***   ***   ***   ***


At one  time or another all Christians will wrestle with the issue of discerning God’s will for their own lives. Discerning the origin and spirit behind our impressions is notoriously difficult for even the most mature of believers, and within Christendom (and throughout the history of the church) there exists many different ideas about how to discern God's will.


In 2 Timothy 3:16-17 we find one of the most famous passages in the New Testament. It reads, “All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness, that the man of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work.” When we face challenging circumstances or difficult choices in life we may be tempted to believe that all of this business about being “thoroughly equipped” is really a bit of hyperbole. Even a serious or long-time student of the word might ask how the Bible can help them decide between two job offers, two college acceptance letters, whether or not to get married, or how to navigate an interpersonal mine field at work. The above passage makes the unambiguous statement that the Bible gives us all that we need to live a life that is pleasing to God. So, how come it does not speak to these sorts of amoral questions? When this question arises, many Christians are tempted in their reasoning to suspect that God has some other means of revelation for matters of personal discernment. They question the sufficiency of scripture, and turn to other, more slippery, means of discerning God’s will for their lives. The liberating truth is that God is not as concerned with the specific choices we make as He is with the condition of our heart and the sincerity of our walk. Many worry that at some point they zigged when God wanted them to zag, and now the course of their life has drifted unalterably away from God’s best. God’s will is not found in the specific choices we make, but in living a life of joyful obedience. A desire for the Lord and an earnest heart toward Him are His will for our lives, and even if one makes a bad choice God is able to redeem that for His glory and for our betterment (Romans 8:28-29). In fact, the consequences of a wayward decision may be the very tool that God uses to conform the decision maker to the likeness of His Son. A person who is really concerned about God’s will is probably already in it. The willingness and desire after God is the will of God.




But how can the word of God help us in making these sorts of amoral decisions? Although scripture does not speak to all of life’s scenarios it is important to recognize that God is concerned about the choices we make in life. Remember the words from 1 Peter 5:7 “…casting all your care upon Him because He cares for you.” He cares. Even when it feels like our prayers are just bouncing off the ceiling and we are tempted to believe that we are alone with our problems it is important to hold onto the fact that God cares for His people, and he cares about our choices and those things that make us anxious. So what exactly is the relationship between scripture and growing in discernment? A sensitivity to the Spirit’s leading is born out of a high concern for God’s word and obedience in all that he has commanded therein. A pattern of seeking God in His word and obeying His commands will naturally lead to greater discernment. Consider the following verses;


“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, And lean not on your own understanding; In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.” Proverbs 3:5-6


“But solid food belongs to those who are of full age, that is, those who by reason of use have their senses exercised to discern both Good and evil.” Hebrews 5:14


“I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service. And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God.” Romans 12:1-2


It is the very essence of discernment to ask God to direct our paths, to help us in discerning between good and evil, and to prove God’s perfect will for our lives. I suspect, however, that all too often these prayers are divorced from any real effort to acknowledge God in all of our ways, a serious pursuit of personal righteousness, or the renewing of the mind through the transformative study of God’s word. This is why discernment is such a frustrating business for so many. We want answers, and we want them now, but God is not primarily concerned with giving us the answers to our questions as He is with conforming us to the likeness of His son. In the grand scheme of things the choices we make in life are not as consequential as our attitude toward the process, but it is easy to focus solely on the question marks that life raises to the neglect of  what God has made explicitly clear in His word. Discernment accompanies the faithful pursuit of Christ-likeness through the study of His word and obedience to His commands. Just as long association would serve to familiarize us with a person’s preferences so too will spending regular, intimate time with God in His word give us a greater sensitivity to His leading in situations that require discernment.

URGENT PRAYER REQUEST

Pray for Youcef Nadarkhani and his family.

IDYLLWILD'S TEMPLES

If the residents of Idyllwild decided to build temples to their patron gods they would find that three of them are already standing- The Nature Center dedicated to Mother Earth, Idyllwild Arts dedicated to the goddess Muse, and Town Hall dedicated to the god of do-goodism.

Love for creation, creative expression, and service to the community are not bad in and of themselves of course, but if they serve to scratch that inner god-itch which lies in the hearts of all human beings then they become the stuff of idolatry.

Do I cling to this miserable raft and be satisfied with what meager comfort and security it affords or do I jump ship and swim for a shore that I cannot see? Of course, I know the answer. So why do I ask the question? 'Cause I'm weak...frail...made of dust. That's why. What a figure I must cut gesturing and stammering as I pace back and forth on this raft that I loathe and staring out at a sea that I fear.

WINDED

Those who have only come to know me in the past 8 years might be surprised to learn that I was once an avid jogger. Why would they be surprised? Welll, cause I don't look like a jogger. That's why. It's true though, for extended periods of time in years past I made it my daily practice to go for a run at the end of the day. I like running, and although I've never been fast, once I hit my groove I could just go forever.

My favorite place to go jogging was out at the lake house. I used to run from the house to Benson Landing and back every evening (4 miles). On summer evenings the fields, which lined my route, would be full of fireflies. As I motored past I would pretend that their flashing came from paparazzi cameras. (I have always entertained delusions of grandeur). I also enjoyed running along the Saint Lawrence in Quebec City, around the campus at Houghton and up and down the hills of Pittsford during my police academy days, but I have found it hard to maintain a jogging regimen since moving to Idyllwild.

A few nights ago I decided that every other day I would begin concluding my time of study in the morning with a 30 minute jog. This morning was my first time out. I had preset my MP3 to the theme from Chariots of Fire, and, after doing my stretches, I headed out along a route which I had planned in advance. That's the only way to run in my experience. Start with a plan- "I'm gonna run to A and then over to B and then back here." Any deviation from that route is failure. That's what I tell myself. Stay the course. If it's harder then you had anticipated you've got to stick with the plan.

This morning was hard though. Harder then I expected. I was tempted at times to abandon my plan. My running form began as imperfect and then quickly turned into kind of a tortured shuffle as I forced myself along. Then buzzards began circling overhead waiting for the wounded creature that was me to die. My legs felt wooden, and not springy at all. My breathing was ragged, and, although it wasn't pretty, I managed to finish what I had set out to do. It was a start.This is why it is so important to start with a plan. My natural laziness and aversion to discomfort kicked in and whispered things like, "Whoa! Take it easy,"  "This is your first run in a long time. You shouldn't push it like this," "You should build up to this kind of a run," or "You should turn around and head back. You've gone far enough for your first time."

Deviation is failure I tell myself, and I keep on shuffling. Stick to the plan! To A, then over to B, then back home.

This reminds me of Hebrews 12:1-3, "Therefore since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and pefecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider Him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."

Jesus had his eyes on us (for we are the joy that was set before Him) as he went to the cross and so too should we "fix our eyes on Jesus" as we live for Him in these days. Jesus is all at once our coach, our fuel, our reason, our reward, and our victory. When we grow weary and feel like losing heart, when Satan begins to whisper, we should "consider Him who endured." He endured for us, and so we press on for Him. This business of being a Christian is not for sprinters. You've got to be tough, determined, gritty and even courageous to "run with perseverance." You don't need to be fast, but you do need to stick to the course "marked out," wherever that may lead. It's a long distance haul, filled with the enemy's head games. So, brothers and sisters, let's "fix our eyes on Jesus." Let's "consider Him." Let's run!

FIRST FRUITS

As many of you know, for the past couple of years I have been pursuing a Masters of Divinity degree through on-line courses. When I first started exploring the idea of getting some formal Bible training I sought the advice of a friend who had been through the same program in which I am now enrolled. He had a surprising piece of advice for me, which I have taken to heart even though it has undoubtedly slowed my progress. He urged me to not take time away from my kids in order to pursue my studies. At the time the Spirit loaned weight to my friend's advice and impressed upon me the rightness of it all, but even so there have been many late nights when I questioned the wisdom of staying up until the wee hours of the morning. I would think things like, "Won't I still be taking time away from my kids when my tired body forces a nap tomorrow afternoon?" or "Won't I be taking something from my kids when I snap at them because I'm so worn-out and frazzled?"

Then a couple of weeks ago I was driving somewhere with Sarah, and she suggested that instead of staying up late at night I get up early in the morning to do my course work. Initially I rejected the idea as preposterous, but once again the Spirit stepped in, and loaned His weight to Sarah's advice. I decided to give it a try. It has proved to be a much better arrangement. Instead of giving God an empty tank, and a lets-knock-this-out attitude at the end of the day I am now able to enter my time of worshipful study with a full tank and a sharp, focused mind. Sometimes I start my studies when I used to finish them, but I'm making better progress and getting more out of it.

I'm surprised it didn't occur to me earlier. It's basically the first fruits principle- giving God our best. That's why Sarah and I tithe as soon as we are paid. That's why Ecclesiastes 12:1 says, "Worship now your creator in the days of your youth."

During this season of my life, time is a precious commodity. So that makes it a more precious offering. Every morning I boot up the computer, start the coffee, and lay a few hours on the altar.

GOLIATH WAS A MAN OF FAITH

I have just completed a personal study on the life of David in the Bible. What an incredible life, and what a rich cast of characters! Of course the event which catapulted David into the nation's awareness was his showdown with the giant, Goliath. It occurred to me as I was reading the story of David and Goliath (1 Samuel 17) that Goliath was a man of extraordinary faith. He possessed faith in greater measure perhaps than all the hosts of the armies of Israel arrayed in front of him. His faith was in his stature, his strength,  his armor, his intimidating presence, and his experience and reputation as a fighting man. He may also have had faith in his gods, by which he cursed David. Such was his faith that he walked out into the empty space between the two armies and defied the fighting men of Israel to send a champion to fight him. What an ocean of faith! Such perfect confidence!

David possessed faith in equal measure, but his faith was made of very different stuff. Read the story again and count the number of declaritive statements that he makes about what "will" happen to Goliath. Unlike Goliath, however, his faith was ultimately not in himself or his abilities, but in the God of Israel. The same God who had delivered him from the lion and the bear as he shepherded his father's sheep. In truth, it was not David vs. Goliath as we often say, but God vs. Goliath. Now you tell me who comes off looking small?

1 Samuel 17 tells the story of a showdown between two men of faith, but here's the thing about faith. The object we put faith in is far more important than the amount of faith we possess. Jesus said that a mustard seed, a very small amount, of faith can move mountains, because that faith is put in an object worthy of our faith- the living God who always accomplishes whatever He wills. Goliath proves that possessing enormous faith in an unworthy object will eventually lead to ruin. My brother, John, likens it to two men in airplane at 30,000 feet. One man is equipped with a parachute, and he has perfect faith that when he jumps from the plane he will deploy his umbrella and float softly to the ground. The other is wearing a parachute, but he is very nervous. He's not as confident as the man with the umbrella, but he has just enough faith to jump. When these two men jump from the plane the amount of faith they possessed won't matter. All that will matter is the object they put their faith in. So the question is, which have I placed my faith in- an umbrella or a parachute? Am I a Goliath or am I a David. Is my hope in Christ or something else?

Sarah and I are down in the valley with the kids to attend the funeral for her Grandma, a woman who put her faith in Jesus, a worthy object. Death always serves to remind us of our own mortaility and focuses the minds of mourners on questions of God and their own eternal destination. After the service last night I stood for a moment in the back of the church watching everyone mingle. The room was full of people. Grandma would have loved it.

I stood in the back and looked upon a room full of people who all possessed some measure of faith. But faith in what? That was the question on my mind.

ST. PATRICK'S DAY!!!

I remember once in Junior High I overheard a classmate of Irish descent explain to a teacher why she celebrates St. Patrick's day. "St. Patrick was Irish," she said "So we really celebrate the holiday more than most families do. We're really Irish!" She was dressed all in green with lick-on shamrock tattoos on both cheeks.

The teacher was smiling and nodding her head, when I interrupted, "Actually, St. Patrick was from England," I said. "He was brought to Ireland as a slave, but he escaped, and after coming to Christianity he voluntarily returned to Ireland to introduce them to Christianity."

That's not an exact quote I'm sure. It has been a long time since this exchange took place, but I remember some of the words I chose, because I was careful back then about how I talked about my faith in the public arena. "Introduce them to Christianity" sounds like he gave them a disease or something. Here I was speaking their secular language to describe the event, which in my heart of hearts I would have preferred to describe in more personal language. Had I described this summary of St. Patrick's life to sympathetic Christian ears it would have sounded more like, "After he came to know the Lord, he voluntarily returned to Ireland to tell them about Christ." As a boy I felt weird and different for being a Christian, and I was a tad bullied by the disapproval of my peers into avoiding any direct, naked discussions about my faith so I generally talked about it as though I were a detached observer and not as the participant that I truly was. I regret that.

(Confession- In truth, I was enjoying this moment a little too much. Pride gave birth to this exchange. I was an obnoxious, little, know-it-all sort of kid in Jr. High, and I wasn't primarily concerned with confronting their secular notions with the unsanitized truth of the holiday's religious beginnings, but with simply showing off a little of my knowledge. I'm sure it rubbed them both the wrong way, and they can't be blamed for that. I am still trying to shed my contentious nature. I share this so that you will know that I am not exactly proud of this story.)

The teacher looked at me puzzled for a second, her head cocked to the side and hands on her hips. The girl looked at me like I had just said that the capital of the United States was actually Cleveland, Ohio. After a moment the teacher said, "Is that right? Well, we'll have to look that up." She went over to an encyclopedia, which was nearby because we were in the library, and after a few minutes came back confirming that St. Patrick was, in fact, a Briton.

Victory!

Although, like most American mongrels, I can never be exhaustively or exactly sure of my ancestry, there is not a strong Irish presence in my family tree. If anything it tends to lean more heavily towards other portions of the British Isles. But I do celebrate St. Patrick's day, but not because he was a Briton (as were my ancestors actually! Isn't that word "ACTUALLY" an obnoxious sort of word?) but because we are brothers in the same family and in the same cause. The family being that of Christ, and the cause being that of Christ also.

One of Bowden's teachers at school was struggling recently to explain to him and some of his classmates why St Patrick's day is a holiday and told him that St Patrick is somebody we celebrate because he freed slaves in Ireland. At breakfast this morning, Bowden told Sarah that this is why we celebrate St Patrick's day. I was outraged. A paid educator taking such pains to avoid any endorsement of Christianity (perceived or otherwise) that she completely misrepresented the holiday's beginnings and the man, St Patrick. Maybe she was just bullied by the disapproval of her peers, I don't know, but I wanted to go to school, seek this teacher out and have an actually-filled conversation with her. In fact, I might. As I think about it that teacher wasn't so far from the truth after all if she meant that Patrick helped to free men from their slavery to sin and death by introducing them to Christ, but I doubt that's what she meant.. St. Patrick did come to Ireland to free slaves. I have to own that is true.

So, unlike some,  I won't be pretending that I'm Irish today, but then again I don't need to. For I am a Briton (by ancestry), as was the good St. Patrick, but more importantly I am a Christian, which was St. Patrick's raison d'etre, and, actually, it's mine also.

ACTION

With a hot bowl full of Maccaroni and Cheese (Generic is better than Kraft) and a diet pepsi (the secret ingredient is cancer!) I recently settled in front of the TV for an episode of Bear Grylls' show "Man vs. Wild" on the Discovery Channel. It's easily one of my favorite shows. I could kill an entire day watching Bear conquer the wildest corners of the earth. In this particular episode he landed on a desolate stretch of Scotland's coast and "self-rescued" his way back to civilization.

Being an introspective person (equal parts blessing and burden) I began to ask myself what it is that appeals to me about the show. Adventure, self-sufficiency, wilderness, danger, challenge were all words that occurred to me. In truth, it brings out the little boy in me, and also a hidden, dusty part of who I am as a man. The old desire for adventure, which courses through the hearts of boys and men. On some level I want such a life so I escape for a bit and watch Bear play out my fantasies by proxy.

A spoonful of Mac & Cheese. (I have little use for forks.)

A drink of Diet Pepsi.

Another drink.

Another spoonful of mac and cheese.

And back to the show.

The scene is farcical if you take it in in its entirety. Perverse even. The fit and toned Bear Grylls scrambling down cliff faces, dangling by one hand above certain death, swimming raging rivers, meeting and conquering the worst nature has to throw at him, and me- fat, lazy me- watching him wide-eyed from the comfort of my lazy-boy. My admiration for him does not translate into action. I enjoy taking in his exploits, but I'm not motivated to imitate him.

Another drink.

Another spoonful of mac and cheese.

And back to Bear who is skinning a seal carcass he found along the shore in order to fashion some sort of wet-suit from its disembodied hide so he can swim a stretch of the north Atantic, which separates the island he has landed on from the mainland.

Confronted as I was by Bear Grylls awesomeness I couldn't help but feel a tad like a flabby pretender. I want to be a praticipant. How much do I live by proxy? Do I do this with my faith- the most important thing to me? Do I pretend.

Not always. I'm flawed, but genuine for the most part. Though perhaps, at times I am guilty of studying the life of Christ with a similar detachment. I have sat in church and I have read the Bible in a manner similar to watching Man vs. Wild. I have, at times, admired and enjoyed Jesus without imitating him.

So I asked myself...

...am I eager to do what is good or am I just an admirer of what is good?

Does my understanding of Christ and what He has done for me translate into action in my life? His love for me was an active one. Is my worshipful response?

Is it transformative?

Does it govern me?

Has it motivated me to pursue holiness and reject sin?

Or am I lazy-boy sort of Christian? How about you?

or is it just another drink of sin. Another spoonful of the flesh.

And back to the program.

PERSPECTIVE

This morning I found a chain of tracks in the mud, coyote I think. They crossed the field next to my office in a purposeful way, straight ahead and deliberate. I followed them until they came to a place where they ended amidst scattered fur, rabbit I think. The evidence of a kill spoke to me of success. I was glad for the coyote, excited even. I suppose the scene could of just as easily spoken to me of the rabbit's failure, but I thought of success first. Perhaps that was because I had been following the coyote's tracks and had thus come to view this as its story. So I viewed the killing of the rabbit from the coyote's perspective- a triumph! I wonder though, if I had been following the rabbit's tracks first, instead of the coyote's, would I have been preconditioned to view the spot where they met as a sad sort of tragedy?

I think probably.

It made me question my response to world events, sports, and interpersonal conflict. Are all my feelings of anguish and elation just a matter of perspective? Is it all just the stuff of prejudice?

What is the correct perspective? Who is right? Who is wrong? What is the truth? God alone sees things perfectly. God's perspective must be true for He is truth. We all are naked before Him. He is the one who will one day lay bare all that has been done in the open and in secret, and judge it in perfect righteousness.

That's the view from my house.

But how often do I see things from God's perspective? Certainly not always. I would dare say, not even most of the time. My heart is up and down, it's all around, it spins and dances like a drunken thing. How can I get God's perspective? I want to see things from His angle. I want the peace and confidence that must come from such a vantage point.

I believe the key is God's word. The bible. What a harbor for the wave-tossed heart is the Bible. What a rock of certainty and truth. I have often run to it like a ship before the storm, and found an unrivaled peace in the safety of that harbor. It is God's perspective.

My fallen heart is a wind-blown and fickle thing, that's true, like a tuft of disembodied bunny fur swept aloft, and if I am not purposeful in my efforts to view things from God's perspective, renewing my mind daily through the study of His word, my heart will inevitably stray in its affections. I will be tempted to cooperate with the enemy, and make a peace with this world, to see things from its perspective. Maybe even to agree with that perspective. I don't ever want to drift into a position opposite the Almighty.


I have purposed in my heart to train my affections on the things of God through the disciplined study of His word, giving thanks to Him for rememembering that I am made of dust and for forgiving me when I stray. I am God's man, but all of my sinful inclinations threaten to sabotage the defenses of my heart like a traitor within.

"Search me O' God and know my heart
Test me and know my anxious thoughts
See if there is any offensive way in me
And lead me in the way everlasting."

Psalm 139:23-24

RONALDUS MAGNUS

With Reagan's 100th birthday upon us there has been a lot in the news recently about our 40th president. I went back into the BFZ's archives and retrieved this post from January, 2009 about when I (little 10 year old Josh Tate) first understood that Reagan wasn't going to be President anymore. Happy Birthday, Gipper!

THERE'S A DAY COMING...

This thing I am trying to articulate, to shape through words into meaningful expression, I am concerned it may come off to some of you as the stuff of a chemical imbalance. I have long suspected that not everything in my mind is screwed down as tight as it should be, but this experience has been too constant, too sustained, and far too positive. If this is the stuff of imbalance, a simple departure from normal brain function, than I never want to return again. But I don't think that's what I'm experiencing. In fact, I only draw the comparison to describe how dramatic the departure has been. Am I a deluded mad man? No, but I do hear a voice, perhaps not audibly, but all the same the message is being received. God has been talking to me. Recently I have wanted to fill, overflow, and wander off into the woods where I can give full, uninhibited voice to the ideas in my head and the feelings they stir in my heart. For about the past month I have entered into every day and every interaction like I am rounding the corner for the first time. There's a day coming.

I’ve walked away
On many nights,
Quiet as a cloud,
Across the field,
And into the woods,
Beneath the moon
With shoes still wet
From the water’s edge,
And with words rising in my throat
Like the contents of a shaken bottle,
Ready to burst from my frame
If they could find no other escape
Than the feeble door of my lips.

In the liberty of solitude
I have often said things
I would not have said
Where ears could catch them.

Oh, the words I have loosed
And the things I have confessed
In the woods at night
With only God for an audience.