For many years I wore a black cap. It wasn’t a hat, though it wasn’t a cap either. I know it was a gift. It play a role, crucial at the time, that has now passed – yet God lets it remind me, which means it’s still pivotal in the course of my journey.
I vividly remember the first time. A good friend had gone into a hat store in London. He returned bearing a single gift. With a bit of ceremony I found myself anointed. Even during the first few moments I knew life had taken a turn.
In the time which followed, I found myself being drawn repeatedly into the presence of God. The questions presented to me in peace and solitude always came along the following lines. What did I want in and from life? Was I holding priorities and values most precious? Where did God fit in my views? Did I stand for something (if so what)? Did I have a mission?
I came to appreciate just how integral the gift, the connection with God, and my purpose were with the hat. Nobody understood, that was fine. Few had any insights, this didn’t bother me. Some, including the girls in my life, actually disliked the hat. Sadly, I don’t know that I ever tried to explain what was and continues to emerge.
The reality is that we all wear hats, real and metaphorically. Others may not see them, but we know they are there. Other may not understand, yet our lives are shaped by their role in our lives. Far too often we just go along without thinking. That is the greatest loss of it all.
“Samaria, the party hat on Israel's head, will be knocked off with one blow. It will disappear quicker than a piece of meat tossed to a dog. At that time, God-of-the-Angel-Armies will be the beautiful crown on the head of what's left of his people: energy and insights of justice to those who guide and decide, strength and prowess to those who guard and protect.” (Isaiah 28.3-6)
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