to take his hand..........................

     I had still another problem.  So much of my understanding of Christian duty had been framed by violence.  There are two teams and only one can win.  We must take the mountain, kill the giant, win the battle, defeat the enemy, fight for truth.  This language had subtly convinced me that I was just a mercenary for God, nothing else.
     I was tired of the violence.  I had a hard time seeing Christian service any other way.  I started thinking about getting out of the game altogether.  I daydreamed about a very quiet faith, a very private faith.  Maybe Jesus and I could retire.  Get a place down in Florida.  Maybe take up fishing.  Jesus likes fishing. . . .

     At the Horse Brass, voices like Katarina's helped me heal from my yesterdays, ragamuffins like Pope healed my ever-changing todays, and Dennis helped me move into my tomorrows with a belief that the God-life could be something other than mercenary.  Hope returned.  It often felt weak, but sometimes you only need a seed of hope to plant.
     So, I decided to stay in the game.  I tried to see each new opportunity through new eyes, free of violence, full of love.  I looked for opportunities not to fight for God, but to walk with him.  I began to believe that God was the one who was creatively tilling, planting, and harvesting all around me.  The joy was to take his hand as he led me into his eternal play of love.

-Tony Kriz,  Neighbors and Wise Men:  Sacred Encounters in a Portland Pub and Other Unexpected Places