Believe it or not, there are many things in the life of the Rupp family that do not find their way onto this blog. Some of them are too personal, many are too incriminating, and the rest are too likely to threaten my mom's sleep.
Sometimes I long to write about these things. Usually at 3 a.m., which we all know is a bad time to get in touch with anyone. I long to write about our deepest joys (see "incriminating" above) and our deepest sorrows (see "mom's sleep" above). I long to share how incredibly real G0D's enemy has become in the last 3 weeks, and how we've had a front row seat to it's defeat. I long to talk about brothers and sisters gathering in power, about despair I had only read about in stories, about persecutions that redefine the word, about shackles being smashed to reveal weary ankles and deceived minds. I long to talk about coming to the end myself, and realizing that I have only just arrived at the beginning.
But since I cannot, I will leave you with a picture of the five of us driving home from Papa John's on streets that have no order, through a land bending low under the burden of spiritual oppression, while Bright reads aloud from Revelation in the back seat.
"Mama," he stops and says every few words, "what does C-h-r-i-s-t spell?" and "what is this word s-e-r-v-a-n-t?" While Zion meows like a cat and Brave chews his fist, Daniel and I look out down the road, shoulder to shoulder, our eyes fixed firmly on the prize.