Everything is Bullshit -- But the Open Hand

You've been leading me -- beside strange waters
Across the concrete fields of men
Sun ray like a camera pans
Some will run and some will stand
Everything is bullshit but the open hand
You've been leading me -- beside strange waters
Streams of beautiful -- lights in the night
But where is my pasture land -- in these dark valleys?
If I loose my grip -- will I take flight?

Bruce Cockburn, "Strange Waters"

Here's a psalm for our times, so much like the 23rd Psalm.  I'm moved by it, inspired by it, comforted by it, then provoked to discernment.  So much like the 23rd.

It's this last line -- "If I loose my grip, will I take flight?" -- that haunts me tonight.  In so many ways, to so many ideas and convictions, I hang on for dear life.  My hand, a clenched fist.  My heart, a fortress.  I cling to this resentment or that old grievance.  I build a whole worldview around them.

"Everything is bullshit but the open hand."

It's the open hand that blesses, and the open hand that heals.  It's the open hand that praises, and the open hand that feeds.  I'm reminded that 'loosing my grip' is a daily thing--a choice, a habit, an act of discipleship.  Lord, have mercy.