God of Mystery
There is a water more firm than the crests of earth.
…and with every step, a splash to remind of the Source of its solidarity.
There is a door that interfaces the heart as a window and a mirror, where opportunity meets assessment of self. A barometer of the wineskin of the heart…
…a measure of the capacity to give, to embrace well something that is not oneself, an awareness of the release within of that which occupies territory that belongs to another…
…and a question.
May I drink?
Is there something so beautiful dreamed that suddenly visits in the unaware night watch that kidnaps the air within my chest? When Can this be becomes How can this be?
Is there a wakened state of dreaming? How can the texture of destiny be so coarse one moment and so silk the next?
There is a place where awe apprehends tears of joy from pouring, as a restraint, waiting for just a moment, watching, as a deer stares through the lattice…
…and a question.
As sure as the heart burns for the endless depths of Christ, there is passionate persistence in a journey of living waters amidst a barren path. Wherefore have I come to this oasis…to this well, this cistern?
With lips parched in body and soul overflowing in Spirit…
…longing for water, asking, is this cup for me?
Father, I have only nothing of myself to offer. Nothing, for I’m long emptied out before You. All I have is who You are in me. If that is desirable, it is because You alone are good.
It is the strength of God to stand in the place of beauty. For the posture of holy ground is barefoot worship.
Take me as I am. And let me know, is this cup for me?
…and with every step, a splash to remind of the Source of its solidarity.
There is a door that interfaces the heart as a window and a mirror, where opportunity meets assessment of self. A barometer of the wineskin of the heart…
…a measure of the capacity to give, to embrace well something that is not oneself, an awareness of the release within of that which occupies territory that belongs to another…
…and a question.
May I drink?
Is there something so beautiful dreamed that suddenly visits in the unaware night watch that kidnaps the air within my chest? When Can this be becomes How can this be?
Is there a wakened state of dreaming? How can the texture of destiny be so coarse one moment and so silk the next?
There is a place where awe apprehends tears of joy from pouring, as a restraint, waiting for just a moment, watching, as a deer stares through the lattice…
…and a question.
As sure as the heart burns for the endless depths of Christ, there is passionate persistence in a journey of living waters amidst a barren path. Wherefore have I come to this oasis…to this well, this cistern?
With lips parched in body and soul overflowing in Spirit…
…longing for water, asking, is this cup for me?
Father, I have only nothing of myself to offer. Nothing, for I’m long emptied out before You. All I have is who You are in me. If that is desirable, it is because You alone are good.
It is the strength of God to stand in the place of beauty. For the posture of holy ground is barefoot worship.
Take me as I am. And let me know, is this cup for me?
Comments
Post a Comment