We didn't find a pearl
Hidden in the shells on the marsh But we did find fishermen Who shared with us their rods and stories Who taught us how to cast and reel in Who left us feeling joyful and welcome and seen We wandered upon the docks We sat looking out from the pier We didn't take a boat and sail out But we feasted together genuinely On fresh food and in good company We ate at the edge of the sea and recognized Him among us We spent a lot of time looking up At stained glass in the library That spoke of poets as prophets of beauty At the details on the church doors Depicting the faces of saints who've gone before We have no trinkets to show for our time but we do have wonder On the beach we were silent together At the shore we heard Him calling He invited me to take some space To adventure alone for a moment To hear Him clearly and to know for myself The joy of returning back again to family We walked in rhythms of rest We moved in rhythms of worship We leaned into unhurried stillness We met with our Maker Our Maker met with us We had all along the pearl of great price “And calling to him a child, he put him in the midst of them and said, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.”
Matthew 18:2-4 ESV I have had access to the storehouse all along, ever since I joined this family, I just never knew all the goodness I had access to. Seasons have come and gone, but the storehouse has always been just one door away from me. Its resources are for the needy. Its resources are for the body. Access only takes awareness, only takes accepting the invitation to, "come, if I'm thirsty, come to the waters; and if I have no money, come, buy and eat!" (Isaiah 55:1). Why is it hard sometimes to accept gifts that are free, goodness I can't reciprocate but can only receive? Children are good at receiving gifts joyfully. Children don't fight against their father's generosity. Children are good at treasuring simple things. Children bring delight to their father. Maybe this, in part, is what it means to be like such as these, to become like a child and accept the gift of the kingdom of God, become part of the family of saints, come through the doorway marked with the blood of the spotless Lamb, and enter into holy rest and abundance. The storehouse is open to all who can receive. “Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus, by the new and living way that he opened for us through the curtain, that is, through his flesh, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful.” Hebrews 10:19-23 ESV Daughter, look up.
The King is out on the waters before you. He is unwaveringly patient and whole. Do you doubt his authenticity? He is not sign or symbol: He is the real thing. Reach and you will find him tangible. Hold fast to him and be held in his capable arms. Listen and you will hear the resonance of his voice. Sing your heart song in harmony to his melody. He is always worthy. He is an absolute. All of creation testifies to his beauty. All of creation flows from his generosity. All of creation responds to him with awe. Daughter, look up, respond to him. Let your heart respond to him honestly, The gracious King who moves towards you, The present King who is unafraid and wholly unashamed to call you his beloved, The steadfast King who holds a joy unchanging. Daughter, look up, respond to him. He is not far off. He is not hidden in a cloud. No tomb can contain him, but any garden can, The God-Man whose laugh births abundance. Trust the ways he plants, waters, weeds, prunes, and harvests. Trust the ways he prepares the feast and ages the wine for the cup of redemption. Trust his ways. Trust him. Trust him. Daughter, trust him. He is trustworthy. Something has been burned onto you,
It's crusty and sticky and acting like it has always been a part of who you are; You are not this mess, don't let it shame you. We can scrub at it hard and long, Use some steel wool and strong-arm this thing To get it off, or we can let it soak instead, Then it might come off more gently. I'll run some warm water, drizzle in Some bubbly soap, we will cover this mess With a different substance that does its work Slowly, and then we will wait. We are not ignoring this goo, Some charred things just need time resting In still, warm water before they are soft enough To detach from the surfaces they have stuck to. Yes, we're still here, it's only been five minutes. We have to give the water time to do its work. Water is a miraculous substance, changing The weight of things, working by osmosis. Yes, I'm excited to get this over, get this done, too, But dear one, rushing ahead will only make this harder. Let it soak. Let it rest. Let it be covered. Under the water, transformation is happening. Yes, now it's been an hour, Funny how time moves like water, Like quiet streams, when we're sitting together, Together here in the waiting. I'm still thinking about water: How it makes up so much of who you are, How it is used to wash and clean, Thinking about living water and baptizing. Words are like water, and parting seas Sometimes looks like shutting out deceit By letting me clear the way for you, Or like being buried, under water, and coming up free. Words are like water, like the water I use To wash my disciples' feet, I'm gentle, It's not a scouring, it's an honoring, Washing off the parts that don't look like me. Words are like water, when waters break, There is a flood, life is going to pour out, There may be pain in the process, But this new life is wondrous and full of beauty. Words are like water, coming out of a rock, The rock that is higher, the cornerstone rock, Bringing refreshing where there was once doubt, Keeping promises, this water that doesn't run out. It is time now to see how things have changed; Let's pour some water out slowly, There now, here's a clean cloth to remove The lingering mess. All through. There now. There you are, now you look like you. You see me.
People walk by every day, Passing judgment on me, They say that surely I am a sinner Or born of those who sin, Surely I hold some blame for my blindness, Even your disciples say this, But you do something different, You say the work of God will be shown through me. You come close. Everyone else distances from me, Backs away, goes around, or like my parents, Abandons all hope for life for me, But you come close, use your spit to make mud for me, Put your matchless hands on my eyes, anointing me, Invite me to participate in my own healing. I wash and come home seeing. I testify boldly of the work God did in me. You find me. When I am disbelieved, again, You find me and reveal yourself to me. Son of Man, you are the real thing. Son of Man, you give me purpose and calling. Son of Man, you are worthy of worship and praise. Son of Man, thank you. Thank you for giving me eyes to see you. "he puts the deep into storehouses" psalm 33:7
King Constant gives me keys to His vast and many storehouses. Today I stop and select the key of childlike-boldness to open the door to a room that holds the deep. The door swings open and the deep stays contained within the borders he created for it - he is a masterful architect. I step in to the midst of the deep, dark blue waters, which move quietly and gather me into peace. I am surrounded and I have so much space to be. Earthly expectations fall off at the door to the deep, for they are not made to withstand the weight of glory. Free of such hindrances, I move and rest freely. While at first dark and sober, the further I swim into the deep, the more I notice light dancing playfully, penetrating even the lowest realms of these waters. Light unafraid of being misconstrued in its journey to the depths stirs my heart and mind and soul to lightness, too. There is no fear in love. The King's storehouses are only filled with good things. Gradually the shadows fall behind me and all I feel is joyful gratitude. I am carried here. I am safe. I can rest and not look back, trusting the God of the deep to lead me into brighter and clearer understanding of his ways and means. King Constant is the God of the deep. King Constant is the Breath inside me sustaining me. King Constant is my friend. He made a covenant of love with me, signed it by writing his name on my heart with a blood-filled engraving, sealed it with a holy kiss and his Spirit taking up residence within me. King Constant, he is holy. What hue of light would you like me to gather up and take with me from the storehouse of the deep today, my King? What hue and what texture? "Joy comes in the morning." Ah, a light that comes with a melody! To gather up this gift, I loosen up the knots, unwind, and open up the wineskin in which my heart has been maturing. I open it all the way up so my heart is fully exposed to the joy coming to wrap around me, the song of hope that is running at me full speed. Its notes envelope my heart, lift it, twirl it in embrace, then this joy itself reties the wineskin around me. "Joy, joy, joy, joy, down in your heart, down in your heart, down in your heart. Joy, joy, joy, joy down in your heart, down in your heart to stay." The song repeats and takes on harmonies and rich instrumentation as I swim back to the door of the deep. Something like viola and cello strings are the loudest in the tender mixture of things when my feet touch the ground again at the doorframe. I breathe deeply, looking out from the deep into the hallway. Isn't he wonderful, King Constant, isn't he lovely, to send me to gather up some of his joy to hold and even more to give away generously? The more I give, the more I have welling up in me. I step out of the deep. Shoes have been left at the doorway for me. I lace them up and stride onward, feet fitted with the readiness of the gospel of peace. It's a new day. It's a fresh morning. Joy is here, King Constant's joy in me. "It might just need to move into a bigger pot." This aloe vera plant that has survived me for four years, that I almost killed by neglect several times, it's still growing, and it's in too small of a pot now to support its growth. This aloe plant was a housewarming gift from two friends who taught me so much about community and creating family through sharing meals made together: everyone has something to bring to the table; and through sharing hearts authentically: better to be honest about a bad day and show up anyway than hide and reject loving arms. It lived inside first, in a living room. And then I moved and it enjoyed some time basking in the company of other plants on a front porch under the care of a quiet, steady saint. She moved and almost all its companions perished, and it almost did, too, but another steady saint moved it into a quiet, hidden place, and it continued to bloom. In the corner of that shower it got light and it got water. It heard prayers and it heard questions and it heard songs. It bore witness to heart changes and renewals of the mind, and quietly held the testimony of the fruit of God-centered community. An aloe vera plant. Break its leaves for access to a cool and healing balm that has been used for centuries all around this earth. This humble plant holds titles of "silent healer," "desert lily," "royal plant," and "plant of immortality." Its origins are uncertain, but its distinguishing name, vera, means "true" and its first name speaks of a fragrance and heartwood. I have grown up steeped in Christianity, so in gathering together the words heartwood, fragrance, and true, I can't help but think of the cross and my Savior upon it that Good Friday. Yeshua: Royalty who grew in wisdom silently for thirty years before stepping into the ministry that brings healing to the world and offers eternal life. Yeshua: The perfect fragrant offering. Yeshua: Flipping death on its head by redefining the shameful cross through submitting to it in humility and then resurrecting. Yeshua: The One who is always true. Of course it all points back to You. This gift that represents family, healing, life. All of your creation sings Your praises. All of your creation is made to bring glory to You. There's more here yet for me to learn, but for now I will sit in gratitude, in wonder, and begin my search for a bigger pot. SOURCES
A mysterious provenancehttps://blogs.biomedcentral.com/bmcseriesblog/2015/02/26/history-aloe-vera-arabian-desert-cream-use-hands/ “flower of the desert” “the plant of immortality” “elixir of eternal life” The benefits of aloe vera were discovered again at the end of World War II after verifying that it cured the burns of people injured in the nuclear explosions of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. https://www.atalayabio.com/en/the-history-of-aloe-vera/ "Desert Lily" "Royal plant" "Silent healer" In Sanskrit, Aloe is known as Ghrita Kumari, Kumar means girl and it was believed that this plant supplied the energy of youth to women and had a rejuvenating effect on the female nature. Christopher columbus once said, “Four vegetables are indispensable for the well being of man : wheat, the grape, the olive and Aloe. The first nourishes him, the second raises his spirit, the third brings him harmony and the fourth cures him.” http://www.iosrjournals.org/iosr-jhss/papers/Vol.%2022%20Issue8/Version-16/D2208162124.pdf Etymology originally in reference to the drug, from Latin aloe, from Greek aloe, which is of uncertain origin, probably a loan-word from an Oriental language A secondary sense is older in English: "Fragrant resin or heartwood of an East Indian tree" Vera - true https://www.etymonline.com/word/aloe "Can they bring the stones back to life
From those heaps of rubble - Burned as they are?" With the gracious hand of the Lord upon us, Yes. A humble and resounding yes. Not by man's might nor wisdom, Not by man's power nor strength, But in surrender and in fellowship With God's covenant of love, Yes, we will labor night and day Trusting in the faithfulness of Yahweh, We will build side by side, Wall by wall, gate by gate, Guarding the low and vulnerable places, Heeding the trumpet's blast, Praising and praying, Watching and working, Brother and neighbor together, Moving too diligently to listen to The mocking cries of the enemy With their words that hold no weight in eternity. They fear the Lord but do not know Him. We know the Lord and therefore fear Him. He is Yahweh. Faithful to respond to all Who turn and give their whole heart to Him. He is Yahweh. He is the Lord. He breathed life into the void with a word. The charred and ashy rubble of these walls Will breathe and sing again. He has declared it, so it is already done. Lack is loud and logical
"You don't have what you need" Lack keeps a record A dirty laundry list of inadequacies "You'll never be enough for this" Perhaps I won't be But my God's not afraid of my smallness He's overjoyed that all I have to bring Is my heart So I hold it out to Him again In offering Mirroring His posture As He holds His heart out to me "Surrender is the safeguard" What does that mean? "Surrender is the safeguard Give it all to Me Shamelessness saturated with humility Childlikeness entwined with maturity Surrender is the safeguard for your heart Your heart is safe with Me" Wholehearted I asked Him once what His purpose was for me And He said "Be wholehearted Follow after Me" I know His voice It is gentle and steady I know His heart It is pure and holy Surrender Wholeheartedly You would have me be so undignified
Because you are not a respecter of persons, God-Man moving in the dirt streets among us. You know too intimately the beauty of humility, So you woo me into humility, into communion, You woo me again and again, in gentleness, You who are whole so as not to need me, Yet so whole that you call me to you in love. You would have me be so undignified; It is the heart posture required for me to dance In rhythm with you who sat undignified At so many tables with so many other souls Just like me. I’m nothing special and still I’m your everything, so I’ll sing off-tune And I’ll dance undignified and I will offer Myself as a sacrifice of praise to you alone, My doting, undignified, glorified, worthy king. |
AuthorI write to process. I write to explore. I write with the hope of sharing truth greater than my own. Archives
February 2022
Categories |