Friday, November 27, 2015
Sunday, November 8, 2015
A love has dawn, of which I have never seen before. Its magnitude, its frequency, blasts through my paper flesh. I am captivated. I have known good and bad, up and down, dreary and hopeful. But in all the exposition, contemplation, thinking, evaluation, I never prepared myself for the reality of it. Love crosses nations and galaxies. It's intricacies seen in the smallest of things, over and above the largest of things, in and through everything. The loudest of all sounds, yet the stillest of all calms. The stars, the sun, the planets, point in His direction, yet don't fully hold Him. There is no fight, no broken heart, that goes unbeknownst. No rejection or abandonment, not felt. Intensely felt. So that The Heart breaks with ours, even deeper than ours. It fights for us when we feel the world was put her just to break us. It doesn't fear our darkness, it knows the dark is only there until dawn. Everywhere, everything is dawning. The light shines. I dare not try and contain it. I can only give way to it. Only let go of all else I hold on to. It is in this moment, in this light, free, beautiful moment that the whole of it made sense of all my little parts, and yet the whole is calling me into more wholeness. I float on a river of redemption, only knowing the river gets deeper and wider the longer I ride. My imagination fails me, my mind tries to categorize, to put in order, to make sense, before finally joining the rest of my body in just riding. The love is new because the love is of old. Manifesting in a million different ways that which was always present. Time and space have no bearing, only signs and signals. The truth is Spirit, always creative, adding and proclaiming the beauty and love that has united all of us, generation to generation, time to time, and which erupts through all that is and can be with a force so mighty it will propel us forward for all of eternity.
Sunday, November 1, 2015
Redemption flys over the hills. It's patterns, it's grace, only known from afar. Only tasted in parts and pieces. Known, felt, but not fully grasped. Known in fragments, and in half taken breathes. Yet somehow, still known, still enough. For now I know in part, then I shall know fully, as I am fully known. Redemption makes its way through the crowds, touching everyone, Lord help me to know when it's near. There is none brighter, none who speaks more clearly, none who should be closer listened to, but we know by touching a piece, leading to another piece, leading to revelation, leading to open hearts, leading to another picture, a caricature of what is full, but enough to keep us moving forward. Sometimes, when the smoke clears, I can see more clearly. In these times, the mountains, hills, music, rhythms and dances all seem holy. There is no distinction between what is and what is to come, they are working together. In these moments, meaning is apparent, people are a grace, my troubles teachers, the unknown beautiful mystery. Thank you God. Other times, the road seems to be full of pot holes. In which I sprain my ankles. My bemoaned labors pile up, my shoulder seemingly about to crack under the pressure. Both experiences, same life. Both must be surrendered. Both leading to the holy. One by praise, the other by dependency. We need to accept both, hold both compassionately, learn to be compassionate to ourselves in both. Bad days don't mean bad people. In the darkness, there is still a light. Our ability to see it doesn't determine its reality. Now. My life is open. I accept good days with gratitude, bad as reminders of our dependency upon holy grace. I less fear the corners of myself, the far recesses where great joy and great pain live. I don't run from my feelings, they no longer have mastery over me, I'm less tossed about by the waves of my own fears. But I do not try to go feelingless, I do not deny my needs, my wishes, my desires. I can feel intensely, but also relativize my feelings. I less hold, more be held. I less try and pave my own way, more float in the river of grace. Millions upon millions of gallons flowing through all that is and all that was and all that will be. It cannot be stopped, it is beyond time and eternity, yet gentle enough to care for the deepest wound, the most sensitive soul. Help me to trust such a grace. My ever despairing thoughts, troubling me, can take promise in the One that lies beyond the eternal, beyond my troubles. Care for my soul Holy God, keep me from the darkness of trying to care for it on my own.