Do justice. Love mercy. Walk humbly.
God calls me to walk. To walk and not faint. To walk on the water and through the valley of the shadow of death. To walk in the garden and walk in all his ways.
Oswald's right. There is nothing glamorous about walking. But it can be thoroughly comforting.
I just walked around my block three times at dusk on a perfect summer's evening. I did not really want to go, but I sit at a computer all day. I knew I should rouse the bones, and placing one heavy tennis shoe in front of the other, I went. The hot day had cooled to a refreshing mid-sixties. I heard voices and sprinklers and the gravel crunching under my feet. I watched a flock of quail strut their stuff and then fly into a huge, thick spruce tree, and I thought about Oswald's distinction between a consciousness of God's presence and the reality of it. I'm not sure I understand, but it was nice to think about it. And to walk.
Do justice. Love mercy. Walk humbly.
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