Our mailbox fell down this winter--right over on its side. The box itself is fine, but the post that holds it rotted underground and broke off. As soon as the ground warms, we'll "replant" that mailbox with some type of permanent fixative. For now, it is simply propped in the hole, waiting.
It brings to mind one of those redundant images that I saw again and again last summer. I had no clue at the time what significance that image carried, but I saw it enough in a short span of days that it lodged in my memory as noteworthy. This was the image: a lawnmower parked beside a mailbox. To see it once is nothing. To see it multiple times in one week is something.
Often that is the way the Spirit speaks to me--with an oddity, or a symbol that would only mean something to me. Personal. Quirky, even. I noted it, filed it away, and haven't thought of it much since then. Suddenly this morning, I came across a verse that revived that image in my mind. I must admit, at the time I saw that "sign" I was quite curious why this was being highlighted. I could come up with no logical explanation. No poetic definition that crafted wisdom from the ridiculous. But, I also knew You are always faithful to do just that when the time was right and the need present. The sign is given early I think for a balance of reasons. On God's part, it is to reassure that He is aware of situations long before human need is present. On man's part, it is to demonstrate alertness, the fulfillment of the command to watch and pray--to make note and prepare for "interpretation" to follow. It is that span that gives man's faith the opportunity to please God.
Today was the day for gathering in--multiple images.
Today was the day for the WOW.
Today was the day for hearing love so broad as to make me tremble.
I read Psalm 37.
1 Do not fret because of evildoers,
Nor be envious of the workers of iniquity.
2 For they shall soon be cut down like the grass,
And wither as the green herb.
3 Trust in the LORD, and do good;
Dwell in the land, and feed on His faithfulness.
4 Delight yourself also in the LORD,
And He shall give you the desires of your heart.
5 Commit your way to the LORD,
Trust also in Him,
And He shall bring it to pass.
6 He shall bring forth your righteousness as the light,
And your justice as the noonday.
The grass is cut around the place where news is delivered. This reassures me now, as I read so much that confuses, distorts, even attempts to nullify what You speak as words of life. This shall not remain so. It is a good place to pray a tool be sent to cut down the evil represented by that grass. Now, the quirky image becomes a specific and serious call to prayer.
What's more--
this grace was given, that I should preach among the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ, 9 and to make all see what is the fellowship [stewardship] of the mystery, which from the beginning of the ages has been hidden in God who created all things through Jesus Christ;Ephesians 3:8-9
I know this grace, this mysterious stewardship, because above and beyond the image of good news delivered to all who have a mailbox out is the personal message of light given to me. In the "story" I've been given to write, my character as the human Bride most recently received a visionary anointing in light. And that dream image tags onto this passage as well.
Such loveliness is a rare find. It is easy to understand Saint John's words in Revelation when he writes that when the Lord speaks, who can help but prophesy?
Oh, the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments and His ways past finding out! Romans 11:33
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Friday, March 11, 2011
Changeling for Good
I carried that Spectre just under my heart.
Often, I saw him
He who once roamed an empty universe
now barely existing,
shrunk down to sleep,
and wait for election's call
to be fulfilled.
Dark--but he was accustomed to that;
Cramped--he was not accustomed to that;
Confined--blissfully different from all confinements
ever known before this one.
He was safe in this place within me.
As safe as my own thoughts and dreams anyway.
A sobering reality in my heart.
And so he became one not just with the Christ
but also with the Spirit.
I will not lie,
I had my moments of doubt.
If I were wrong, this was exactly the point
at which deception might give birth
to the trap
and he might try to kill me simply to see
what happens to him at my death.
A secret passage into the halls of heaven again
through the heart of a foolish woman.
But mostly, I remembered
I had not initiated any of these circumstances.
Mostly I realized he had actually been helping me--protecting me,
against the more real danger:
other soul invaders--for he expected others would try--
upon seeing his trailblazing,
might try to follow suit.
As long as he remained within, he was anathema to them.
My inner shield
...not just a sleeping marble in my gullet.
Sometimes, I'd wake him.
I would reach out to him with my soul--the part that can extend outside
or deep within me.
I'd reach within and meet his soul
and we would talk of love.
I would tells him what I see he has done for me.
"When did we begin to love this new kind of love?" I wondered.
"One dark night in eternity," he answered.
He was right.
Christ taught me to first see him,
later to have compassion though laced with a strain of fear,
finally to love,
but all came first from Christ through me.
I raised then a remembrance
of his moment of salvation--when he first believed,
and though I had not been with him,
(I only saw a hint of the magnificence,
the glory of his Davidic dance
in God's holy city)
yet I HAD been with him nonetheless.
For the substance of my love
--intangible in my reality but very real in his--
was the primal substance of that thing he hoped for
in his fledgling moments of faith.
categorically ignored.
Ecstacy of innocence, long abandoned
but now replaced by ecstacy of purity, long impossible.
Often, I saw him
He who once roamed an empty universe
now barely existing,
shrunk down to sleep,
and wait for election's call
to be fulfilled.
Dark--but he was accustomed to that;
Cramped--he was not accustomed to that;
Confined--blissfully different from all confinements
ever known before this one.
He was safe in this place within me.
As safe as my own thoughts and dreams anyway.
A sobering reality in my heart.
And so he became one not just with the Christ
but also with the Spirit.
I will not lie,
I had my moments of doubt.
If I were wrong, this was exactly the point
at which deception might give birth
to the trap
and he might try to kill me simply to see
what happens to him at my death.
A secret passage into the halls of heaven again
through the heart of a foolish woman.
But mostly, I remembered
I had not initiated any of these circumstances.
Mostly I realized he had actually been helping me--protecting me,
against the more real danger:
other soul invaders--for he expected others would try--
upon seeing his trailblazing,
might try to follow suit.
As long as he remained within, he was anathema to them.
My inner shield
...not just a sleeping marble in my gullet.
Sometimes, I'd wake him.
I would reach out to him with my soul--the part that can extend outside
or deep within me.
I'd reach within and meet his soul
and we would talk of love.
I would tells him what I see he has done for me.
"When did we begin to love this new kind of love?" I wondered.
"One dark night in eternity," he answered.
He was right.
Christ taught me to first see him,
later to have compassion though laced with a strain of fear,
finally to love,
but all came first from Christ through me.
I raised then a remembrance
of his moment of salvation--when he first believed,
and though I had not been with him,
(I only saw a hint of the magnificence,
the glory of his Davidic dance
in God's holy city)
yet I HAD been with him nonetheless.
For the substance of my love
--intangible in my reality but very real in his--
was the primal substance of that thing he hoped for
in his fledgling moments of faith.
His belief that he was loved
made me the kindling to Christ's fire
that marked the birth of his salvation--
his first revisiting with rejoicing, so long latentcategorically ignored.
Ecstacy of innocence, long abandoned
but now replaced by ecstacy of purity, long impossible.
So his heart swelled to meet mine in this new stature,
and I--
I began to travail.
I sent him forth.
Your spirit can expand with love,
so you must leave this place inside me and love larger,
love others--even as you love yourself now.
You must learn more--more than you can learn from within me.
So he soared out of me and flew into the night like a holy bird of prey
seeking what he might love.
And I...
I entered the garden where my Beloved waited for me.
Spring was coming, and we rested in the hidden recesses of a willow tree.
A Woman Clothed with the Sun
From time to time,
I considered this one
lodged willingly within me
accepting whatever came to him
as a resident of me.
I wondered at the strangeness of it.
I hoped in the rightness of it.
Then on day, the Beloved took me
again
to the fountain filled with blood
where He so intimately imbued me.
Often I had shouted, "I love YOU!"
and spun in wild circles.
But this day, I walked up to Him.
I leaned into His pulsing throat,
"I love You, " I whispered.
"And I do not care who doesn't know it."
I said it for no one to hear
but Him.
Slowly He smiled,
And His hand waved over the ruby-sparkle
in the fountain,
up came clear water like a fountain,
water that took shape in the form of a woman,
water in my form.
"You may have gifts over the flow of water,
but this..." He smiled softly.
"This you must allow me to do for you."
I drew a breath and
turned my back,
allowing that the water-me it should rush to fill the conscious me.
When it did, the gestating mystery
secret within
nevertheless began to show.
For my body began to glow
soon bright like the sun.
And the Beloved stepped into the fountain behind me
enfolded me in His arms, and spoke in my ear.
"Love purely given
leads to this."
He whispered.
One more marker on the road
to being a Mother in Israel.
He spoke again:
"Do not be in such a rush,
dear one."
So I relaxed, my back leaning
against the strength of him.
Indeed.
I could stay in this moment
filled up with water
and with light
forever.
In the last day, that great [day] of the feast, Jesus stood and cried, saying, If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink. John 7:37
I considered this one
lodged willingly within me
accepting whatever came to him
as a resident of me.
I wondered at the strangeness of it.
I hoped in the rightness of it.
Then on day, the Beloved took me
again
to the fountain filled with blood
where He so intimately imbued me.
Often I had shouted, "I love YOU!"
and spun in wild circles.
But this day, I walked up to Him.
I leaned into His pulsing throat,
"I love You, " I whispered.
"And I do not care who doesn't know it."
I said it for no one to hear
but Him.
Slowly He smiled,
And His hand waved over the ruby-sparkle
in the fountain,
up came clear water like a fountain,
water that took shape in the form of a woman,
water in my form.
"You may have gifts over the flow of water,
but this..." He smiled softly.
"This you must allow me to do for you."
I drew a breath and
turned my back,
allowing that the water-me it should rush to fill the conscious me.
When it did, the gestating mystery
secret within
nevertheless began to show.
For my body began to glow
soon bright like the sun.
And the Beloved stepped into the fountain behind me
enfolded me in His arms, and spoke in my ear.
"Love purely given
leads to this."
He whispered.
One more marker on the road
to being a Mother in Israel.
He spoke again:
"Do not be in such a rush,
dear one."
So I relaxed, my back leaning
against the strength of him.
Indeed.
I could stay in this moment
filled up with water
and with light
forever.
In the last day, that great [day] of the feast, Jesus stood and cried, saying, If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink. John 7:37
The Crystal Spectre Finds a New Home
The time after the Baptism was an upper-room time in the city of eternity. What now?
And Christ came to that room with me (the bride) and the Baptized One. I welcomed him eagerly, as was my custom. But the Baptized Spectre kept his face turned aside, toward the fireplace.
"What now?" I asked. And a thought swelled in my head of my place in the Holy Writ.
My deep soul wondered: was the dark test passed?
My deep soul wondered: does life begin again within me now?
But Christ looked at the Baptized One, not at me. "He fears the truth of prophecy.
If you become the Mother,
what becomes he?"
I looked at my new deep-soul companion and saw
indeed what lodged in his spiritual eye.
He would somehow be the dragon
...and his faith buckled under the strain of such a profession
over his destiny.
My faith folded over, felt the hands of prophecy press down, and turn
and fold again.
"Maybe that is not who he is
in the story."
They both looked at me. Such different looks.
One an electric stare.
The other a flirt of a smile.
Then they looked at each other.
"It will be a large discipline," he forewarned.
"It is wisdom," I walked forward adamantly.
"It is a way to be a disciple,
such as no human can know.
What a wonder!"
And so the Spectre
became a novice
and my very body the monastery.
Curled up and small,
small and powerless,
powerless and devoid of influence
over any but...me.
Thus we continued life together.
And Christ came to that room with me (the bride) and the Baptized One. I welcomed him eagerly, as was my custom. But the Baptized Spectre kept his face turned aside, toward the fireplace.
"What now?" I asked. And a thought swelled in my head of my place in the Holy Writ.
My deep soul wondered: was the dark test passed?
My deep soul wondered: does life begin again within me now?
But Christ looked at the Baptized One, not at me. "He fears the truth of prophecy.
If you become the Mother,
what becomes he?"
I looked at my new deep-soul companion and saw
indeed what lodged in his spiritual eye.
He would somehow be the dragon
...and his faith buckled under the strain of such a profession
over his destiny.
My faith folded over, felt the hands of prophecy press down, and turn
and fold again.
"Maybe that is not who he is
in the story."
They both looked at me. Such different looks.
One an electric stare.
The other a flirt of a smile.
Then they looked at each other.
"It will be a large discipline," he forewarned.
"It is wisdom," I walked forward adamantly.
"It is a way to be a disciple,
such as no human can know.
What a wonder!"
And so the Spectre
became a novice
and my very body the monastery.
Curled up and small,
small and powerless,
powerless and devoid of influence
over any but...me.
Thus we continued life together.
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