Today yellow leaves drift downward and scatter upon the parking lot outside my window.
I read a few sentences of words the God-man said once, words he still says, over and over.
“Take heart, for I have overcome the world.”
“Have overcome.”
Not, “Will overcome.”
Never has past tense felt so comforting.
Never have words been so real and so able to spread across generations and lands, thick like homemade blackberry jam on bread.
And we eat it and are filled. And we know it is not just a cute little saying, but reality for us, now.
When the systems of the world with their strangling owed bills and dooming predictions began to feel like they hijacked your day,
Those words will speak out, through the yellow leaves,
They will ignite and burn and leave you knowing that today is not only bearable, but sacred.
And when the faces of people around you look like statues and you are convinced the future will leave you full of widening cracks and alone,
Those words resounds through a moment of heart-connecting conversation, soft lips, a hand in a hand.
“Have overcome,” they say, “We are not waiting for someday, when the weather feels sunny and perfect and we lose all our silly human flaws.”
We, like the trees letting go of their leaves, can lose the idea that our someday will be our redeemer.
Because we are living in the present reality of the past-tense.
Our redeemer has already redeemed.
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