banquet moment

there was a banquet
the invitation came from the King

everyone gathered round a huge table
resplendent in color and aroma
groaning under the weight of abundance
filled
side to side
end to end

with every imaginable good thing

each one took their seat

the china was gold
the goblets purest crystal

however
where knives and forks were expected
there were only chop sticks
three foot long chop sticks

the aromas of this feast
were tantalizing
causing an immediate desire to eat
and satiate the rumbling stomachs

chop sticks were eagerly picked up
only to discover
that the three foot length
prevented one from bringing food

anywhere near his mouth

a huge mess ensued
as food was dropped
tossed
dripped

frustration grew
anger erupted

finally

the table grew silent
as one by one
each looked to the King
sitting at the head of His table

the King

slowly picked up his three foot long chop sticks
and proceeded to feed the person sitting beside him

bent moment

yesterday
I heard a story
about a tree

when still a young tender sapling
a large tree nearby fell on it
causing the sapling to bend

this sapling continued to grow
but bent over

over time
the large fallen tree
rotted through
and fell off

and
once again
this young tree
was able to grow upright

all this made me think of the church
and the things that have fallen on it
causing it to bend

and of myself

the things that have fallen on me

causing me to grow bent over

and the scripture

hope deferred
makes the heart sick

BUT

desire fulfilled
is a tree of life

burning moment

some friends and I share candles
as a reminder of our commitment
to pray for one another
demonstrating a bond of the heart
that has no physical limitations

our candles burning in different places
all praying the same silent prayer
of friendship and love

my candle burns often

when I write
it is lit

to help make my writing a way of praying
and when I pray
it is lit

to connect me with my friends

footprint moments

many feet have walked in and out of my life
some have walked in to stay
and some just seem to have traveled through

each foot its own size
leaving its own print
with its own sound

some feet are tiny
running with exuberant delight

some feet are bigger
still running with exuberant delight

some feet are heavy
dragging slowly

some feet pound and tromp

some feet dance

each one leaving its mark
contributing to the me of me

the moments of today were filled
with one who has been called
grace on two feet

it was the hands I first saw coming

the feet that season were of necessity
in big brown boots

I am grateful
for the prints of these now unshod feet
in my life

even when in the boots
there was no tromping
steady direct walking
but no tromping

there is a largeness to these feet
a weightiness
a depth to their prints

yet where they trod
life is heard
and grace is felt

there is a huge weightiness to God
but there was at least once
He left no footprints as He passed

Psalm 77:19
your path led through the sea
your way through the mighty waters
though your foot prints were not seen

emerging moment

the only time to emerge

from a place of hiddenness

is when being hidden

no longer matters

ooze moment

way back near the beginning of my blog journey
I shared some thoughts about the cocoon
and my fears

it is fascinating that once again I am in that season
being asked to "attach" myself
with those same fears rising up
and just yesterday
a friend
on the other side of the mountains
knowing nothing of my present pondering
sent me the following:


You have to want to emerge from the little cocoon you’ve burrowed into. Caterpillars literally dissolve into a goopy liquid of individual cells inside the cocoon. New cells mysteriously start popping up called imaginal cells. These are the cells that hold the shape of the butterfly to come. The old cells treat them as invaders and try to kill them but the imaginal cells keep popping up anyway and cluster together in larger and larger groups. Eventually some of the imaginal cells change into antennae cells, others into wing cells, until a completely different creature is created from the ooze.

and so
the ooze of me
awaits

content

at peace

pregnant

growth moment

growth

takes place

in

silence

wonder moments

this has been a day filled with wonder
invited to speak - which is a wonder in itself -
to a fellowship
not huge in numbers
but huge in heart

a fellowship finding itself again after being lost
learning to stand after being knocked down
seeking separation of truth from lies
sincere
earnest
humble
broken
tender

at different times during our time together
hearts were shared
forgiveness sought
weakness confessed

we worshiped on bent knees
and linked arms as communion was shared

hands were extended and received

love was spoken and heard

in the midst of great simplicity
Jesus was seen, felt, heard and tasted

and together
we were the church

it was very lovely
to be with this part of the body

the day began with strangers
who after all are simply people not yet met
and we parted as family

I have been deeply touched
this day

naked moment

Adam and Eve heard the sound of the Lord in their garden
and quickly covered their nakedness

when we hear the sound of the Lord in our garden
are we at ease with our nakedness

words moment

what would the world be like

if our words changed from

Lord, give me a ministry

to

Lord, whose feet am I to wash this day

Jesus stands

on the shore of our lives

whistling gently

to the waves of those who will respond

those who will come

and restore the ruined places

why is there so much speaking

yet so little listening

why so little being alone to fellowship with God

as if we could never part

God made the world out of nothing

and it is only when we become nothing

God can make anything of us

Martin Luther

grace moments

the last 10 days or so have been days of astounding grace
visible, touchable grace

who may ascend the hill of the Lord
who may stand in His holy place
he who has clean hands and a pure heart ....

it has been a deep humbling tender privilege to serve one who has chosen to pause
and step aside in his ascent
to allow for a fresh washing of his hands and deep purifying of his heart

that there might be a strengthening of weak hands
and feeble knees
so that this limb
which is lame
may not be put out of joint
but healed

for the body is only as strong as its weakest part

friend moment

today I prepare to say goodbye to a friend
a friend who has been by my side for many, many years
a friend who has been faithful
a friend who is always there, whether it be in the middle of the night or the middle of the day
a friend who vibrates quietly and who marches in loud power
a friend who is always willing to speak, but can only be heard when united with another
a friend who has seen my children grow and leave
a friend who has heard my cries and my laughter
a friend who has taught me about sounds and demonstrated submission to being stretched taut to enable purity of sound
a friend who loves to be touched
a friend who sits quietly, waiting

I will miss my friend
this friend who never complains when I sing off key
or miss a note
or is impatient during the sometimes long birthing process of a song

I pray my friend will always be loved
will be treated with respect
will be honored and cared for

I will miss my friend

pressed moments

there are moments

when the Artist desires to press

and paint my story with broad strokes

moments when His brush is thick with colors

each bristle heavy

in the pressing

the colors mingle and blend

each bringing their own tone

to the resulting symphony

nest moment

it is early January
and yet there is a dove building a nest
deep in the evergreen
outside my window

in the natural
this is not the season
for a dove
to be building a nest

is there to be a birthing

in the midst of this winter
or is there to be a sacrifice
in the winds of this unnatural season

unsung moment

filled with so much
how can all these thoughts be birthed
when there is no breath to speak
of their sounds
their colors
their shapes
yet
there are moments
when the one who sits with me
can hear what I cannot speak
can see what I cannot describe
and as our hands touch
there is a knowing
the song will be sung
and it matters not who sings it
only that it be sung

river moment

weak
helpless
exhausted
in this bed
that has become all too familiar
over the past many days
suddenly
to the river I finally came
tall reeds red in the light of the sun
singing everywhere
song blending into song
the river itself full of singing
arms up
face full of prayers
looking at this sky
criss-crossed with ribbons of red
from the dying day
they came
filled the sky
filled the earth
too many to count
together
yet separate
quiet yet loud
and their song rose and fell
skimmed across the waters
filled the heavens
deepening and lifting
touching and retreating
and
for a moment
just a moment
I was one with them
one with their song
I was the song

just for a moment

moment moment

in the valley
between the birthing of the spirit
and the restoring of the soul
there is a moment
where man meets his God
face to face
both crucified
gone are all the excuses
rationalizations
and man enters into the truth of God

the fig leaf drops
and man becomes what he truly is

a moment of meeting

a moment of speaking
when no words are needed

only the steps of the Father
and the light of the Spirit
both coming like a gentle breeze
making clear all that was in shadow

joy enters
and the chained one is freed
to rise and dance
with Christ

pillar moment

I have a friend
(is it OK that I call you friend?)
who has overcome much
and it is out of this overcoming
a worshipping heart has been forged

in a dream last night
I saw this one
deeply bending over
arms hugging a pillar
that was lying on the ground

there was a significant struggle
but the pillar was eventually pulled upright

it rocked a bit
in finding its balance

there was a large crack
in this pillar
that was only noticed
once it was again upright

my friend saw this crack
and stretched a hand
towards it

the right hand

was the one
that reached out

as the pillar steadied
and became still and solid
this pillar
and my friend
became one

and the crack that had been in the pillar
was now a wound in the heart of my friend

and it was only when everything was still
and quiet
that you could hear
a most beautiful
tender
powerful
fragile
sound
that came from deep within that wound

like the soft inner moan
of a woman
beginning her labour

as with her hands across her belly
protecting the life within
she abandons herself
to the tides
of transitioning
to birth

there was a depth
and a width
and a height
to this sound
that came from the wound
in the heart
of my friend

there was a richness
and a poverty
an authority
and a hesitating meekness

this sound
never captured

forever free
to rise
into the ears
of the One
who listens

tuesday moment

I pray
we will take his nail pierced hand
and revisit the fields of our life which seem barren
to find tender shoots of life sprouting from long hidden seeds

I pray
in our midnight
his praises will pour forth from our mouth
causing the bars of any imprisonment to crumble

I pray
in the quiet of our dawn
we will be nourished by the food
he has prepared for us

I pray
in the agony of our cross
we will remember
in the place where he was crucified
there was a garden

I pray
in the lonely areas of our path
for a realization
that his wounded feet already have been there

I pray
we are warmed by his breath
washed by his tears
comforted by his song
healed in his dance

I pray
as his hand stirs the waters of our life
all wounds and scars disappear

I pray
for a greater revelation
as to what it means to walk
on the other side of the cross
in his resurrection power

Amen
Amen
Amen