Moshing

Well, this past week your MoM went to a heavy metal show. Not just in the building, but all “up in the mix” with the mosh pit and everything. Yup, me.

It’s been a while since I’ve been to a show that was quite as wild as this. Back in the day, I was all about being up front, throwing elbows, and slam dancing with the rest of the punks. I’m not a teenager anymore. At 54 my body doesn’t react the same to a body slamming into it as it did back in the 80’s. Stuff hurts before I even get to the show.

Another thing that has changed is the behavior of the people in the pit. It used to be every man for himself. If you fell in the mosh pit you were gonna pay a price in bruises. Now things have changed.

I watched several times as people stumbled and fell to the floor. Almost immediately a wall of people emerged like the Secret Service. Each person that fell was surrounded by a protective barrier of fans that helped them to their feet then shoved them back into the melee. It was pretty amazing. I mean after all, these folks chose to find their way into the pit. It was their choice to put themselves in a dangerous situation. Yet here were strangers stepping in the gap to help them when they fell.

I guess that’s what God does for me…for all of us. He watches us wander into the mosh pit of life and get thrown about like rag dolls. He watches as our energy wains. He sees us get weaker and weaker; more susceptible to injury and mistake. Then when we stumble He reaches down to help us…

–Rise Up!!

Rocking out at the show.

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