Sunday, June 19, 2011

Spirit

A few weeks ago, my nephew Josh took part in a 20-mile Wisconsin trail run, most of it in the dark, a lot of it alone, lit only by a headlamp. Dangerous. Amazing. He called it a deeply spiritual experience... His adventure got my mind going, pondering the countless wild untamed mysteries of God's Spirit:

Spirit

native scouts and hunters
stood by these waters and soaked You in
felt Your soul in the brisk wind
calling forth echoes in the dawn
echoes in the sunset
running the trails
marked off by crackling campfires
the cry of wolves 
and unknown animal eyes reflecting

Spirit.

deep calling to Deep, and Deep echoing back
in a voice we can barely make out
and have not yet unraveled.
such a wild wind, the Pneuma.
You soar across the prairie
and the atmosphere swirls the dry dust in reply.
You speak a saving grace
and the skies turn loose sheets of wild water
releasing life, reviving the land.

so little we know.

so little we understand.

in our better moments we make an honest try of it.
You walk through the prairie and it shivers
and we the poets and painters scramble
to capture what we can
before we miss it.
You quicken the artist's mind and steady her hand,
free flow shape sharp brush angle and balance color
proportion, precision -
all this is only the whisper of a hint.

meanwhile you rustle the forests
unsettle the wetlands
You glide dark through deep oceans
stirring seismic dances in caves and underground canyons

the globe spins and sings
altering its orbit at the sound of Your song.
furious joy, love that breaks open rock
feeds lakes
and plants seeds in the forest
seeds in the minds of poets and engineers
architects and inventors.
the mighty gale blows and recedes.
in its wake the soft breeze heals,
a salve, a balm, a redemption,
a second chance singing through the branches of late summer.

so little we know.

we go
about our hummings and doings and goings and comings
and barely take notice of the little cataclysms -
the shift in the air pressure
the upper storms, the night dreams 
the cry of car horns and the weeping of sirens
the percussion of tires on small buckles of pavement
the Great Whisper
the Song, the sun glow
the Dance, and the Eye upon us,
the rhythm of the sails
the patter of the early rain
the pattern of the night campfires
as seen from the high cliffs
smoke rising into thin air

still

be alert

eyes and ears open

attentive
like the dawn and dusk ritual
of ancient tribal scouts by the lake watching
some century ago
right here

attending, silent
to the rustle of the Great Soul
the Word almost imperceptible - hear it?

I AM

--
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.   -Psalm 139:6     (also...see Job chapters 32-40)

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

what a day it will be

I lost one of my best friends over the weekend, to cancer.  Pastor Mark Steele was a man who absolutely poured his life into loving God and shepherding people.  We will miss him beyond words.  Corinne's and my heart are with his family and his church.  I'm posting this lyric from a song I wrote years ago, as a tribute to Mark, as he moves from life to Life, and as a reminder to all of us of the hope we can hold. 


...I'll miss you, Cap'n.  


what a day it will be


what a day it's gonna be
when as last your captive heart beats free
and all that is within you sings
in heaven's own harmony
sweet release from all your darkest fears
the sound of laughter that's been lost for years
you'll never cry another lonely tear
as your sad heart finally
finally sings

hallelujah
what a day it will be

all those angels that you've never seen
watching over you behind the scenes
will at last have reached their goal
presenting you restored and whole
just watch the Father laugh and smile
lifting up His joyful child
and hear the host of heaven sing
in a sweet and soulful angel choir singing

hallelujah
what a day it will be
hallelujah
what a day it will be

even now in the in between
we could write it off as an impossible dream
but it's more than a dream to me
'cause even now i can see
enough to believe






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