Sunday morning poetry. Church: words spoken to me, shared lovingly with you. My second chance to shape my faith every Sunday for a year.
I am late to write today. My morning routine was broken up by overnight guests stumbling down the steps trapping me into watching the Amazon Prime miniseries “Bosch”. I headed out the door at noon to catch the Sunday Matinee of “Newsies”, the Tony Award winning play performing at Clowe’s Memorial Hall, Butler University.
Being home again, I could easily blow off posting but I am happy to put on comfy clothes and hammer out a few thoughts. Driving home the car wheels picked up plenty of fodder. There is inspiration in the political atmosphere; the tragedy of the Middle East, the repercussions of becoming a religious zealot and stoking people’s hate for things they do not care to understand.
I am not worried.
I have inward peace
in such times. That solace
which cannot be stolen.
I am aware of the other end of this “peace” bridge where I have hung by a thread, dangling in the dark, with no one paying attention to the silent screams. My enemy feeds off this past leaving me with a gaping vulnerability.
Psalm 148:5 Let them praise the name of the LORD,
For He commanded and they were created.
6 He has also established them forever and ever;
He has made a decree which will not pass away.
My heart is rebuilding. There are days I read God’s Word without breaking down into hysterical weeping. I live through raging waters that cause thoughts of prematurely wanting to say goodbye. This scares me just as much as my neighbor. At least I imagine they care.
soften my heart.
Let me breathe
this promised peace.
What future is there? In a lost world that is traveling fast towards abyss, science does not give my heart rest. God tells us in Psalm 148 that His decree will not pass away. I turn to my child-like faith of yesterday, torn from me by a dark world, and graciously being restored bit by bit by a loving God. What harm can His assurance bring me?