Wilderness

Since I mentioned an article ran by The Weekly Standard, I've been thinking about the implications of hope and belief in God's ultimate victory for places like Detroit. By Detroit, I mean everyone connected to Detroit (all colors, creeds, etc.).

My friend John York recently talked about this in a sermon. He uses the imagery of wilderness and points out that wilderness often comes before revival. Very interesting.

Mitch Albom, for completely different reasons, is saying something similar in this piece that ran in the Detroit Free Press and Sports Illustrated.

Here's a piece of that work:

And yet Detroit was once a vibrant place, the fourth-largest city in the country, and it lives in the hope that those days, against all logic, it will somehow return. We are downtrodden, perhaps, but the most downtrodden optimists you will ever meet. We cling to our ways, no matter how provincial they seem on the coasts. We get excited about the auto show. We celebrate Sweetest Day. We eat Coney dogs all year, and we cruise classic cars down Woodward Avenue every August, and we bake paczki doughnuts the week before Lent. We don't talk about whether Detroit will be fixed but when Detroit will be fixed.

And we are modest. In truth, we battle an inferiority complex. We gave the world the automobile. Now the world wants to scold us for it. We gave the world Motown music. Motown moved its offices to L.A. When I arrived 24 years ago to be a sports columnist at the Detroit Free Press, I discovered several letters waiting for me at the office. Mind you, I had not written a word. My hiring had been announced, that's all. But there were already letters. Handwritten. And they all said, in effect, "Welcome to Detroit. We know you won't stay long, because nobody good stays for long, but we hope you like it while you're here."