Everyone knows the axiom of two people who view a glass differently. What’s in the glass…water? wine? soda?

An overused metaphor, and if the glass is half full or empty, the metaphor is at least whole.

2019 through 2021 has taken a big gulp out of the already half filled glass, a glass with the liquid version of people I trust, and assumption of good will toward strangers.

The circle of trust has tightened, the liquid in the glass has gone down some. But I don’t want to dump too heavily on human beings, I’m one too.

Speaking of things near empty, if I were a motor vehicle, the tank is in the red. The gasoline is a 95 octane blend of brain power, available funds, compassion, submission, to-do lists.

Unfinished tasks held together by duct tape, scratches and wounds patched with band-aids, unfinished thoughts, unfinished blog posts, meandering prayers, a blizzard of demands without the ability to identify which snowflake should be attended to first.

I bet I’m not the only one.

As I was walking the black dog on a Stygian, cold morning this week, it occurred to me that one of the big differences between me and God (and there is a veritable encyclopedia of entries as to how more elevated God is than me), is that He finishes what he starts.

He is the Alpha and the Omega. I mean, apropos the Greek alphabet, the hysteria about corona virus is hyping the lambda variant. I doubt corona would get to the designation ‘omega’ in a meaningful form.

But God finishes things, and finishing is important to Him. He doesn’t say to the servant ‘well half-done’ or ‘well almost-done’. He says ‘well done’.

Of course we can never earn that acknowledgement from God on our own.

My powerelessness is never on more obvious display to me than when I pray for needs. What to do about the list of problems? Ill health, grief, brethren in despair or suffering under persecution, loss of income, curtailment of freedoms, unsaved human beings, and the list goes on.

Its a cold day in July, not a soul around except for the dog nosing around the nearest tree.

Suddenly a verse, a song: ‘Salvation belongs to our God, who sits upon the throne!’


Salvation is probably the thing I’m most unable to do, for myself, or anyone else. That is the whole point of the gospel of grace.

And I think of Paul’s letter to the Believers in Philippi, and his introduction where he assures them that God started a good work in them, and will finish it. The late Eugene Peterson styled it that God will do it with a flourish. With style.


I’m half.

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