Sight on loan from the maker of reality and I glimpse only a fraction of the picture
The parade of time marching before me and I am subject to the constraints of the sidelines
Deep calls to deep, leaving me wanting more
Spirit river laps gently
Calls me in, downward to the deep well
Subaqueous beauty pouring forth from printed page
the spoken word of the infinite Godhead
I’m allowed to fall into the spring
until I become fully submerged
I am pulled under until I’m drinking the cool liquid deep
into my lungs and I drown in the glory
Under the surface of earth I find life
Streams making glad the river of God
I am undone
Fully consumed in His presence where I can rest tonight
I find myself leaning in as I listen to my story as it pours from my own lips. It seems distant like a memory long washed away be the abrading fingers of time which scrape away all of the pain left to hinder my focus.
I listen intently in an effort to find life, a giant birthed out of the ashes; what was long seared to fade and fog. It is there as I press my ears to what lies beyond words, I hear your voice. “Broken pots spill more water” you say. Fill me with your river, Lord and I’ll wash the world.
We aren’t promised tomorrow so live today as though you mean it. Clichés are so easy to say until you’re staring at the end of the tunnel wondering what went wrong.
I’ve spent so much time talking about seizing moments, creating opportunities and defining destiny. Then I think about how little I’ve accomplished and I cower under the weight of this self-imposed burden. At least I’ve begun.
Who knows but God what ripple rings out in the heavens, from the droplets pooled to substance, of songs I’ve sung, words I’ve penned or smiles offered in moments of need. What kind word might have made an impact? What kind action caused movement in the vastness of time?
A vapor in the wind I am, but vapor joined with other vapor forms rain that brings life to the earth beneath even though it’s unaware as it rises. It probably doesn’t know anything at all and in the grand scheme of things, I am clueless and ignorant as well. Therefore, I decree that I am actually making sense (yea right).
All I can determine is that the most important thing I have to offer is my “now”. I can only step as far as my legs will carry me, the residuals aren’t my problem. God can take every minute I sow and expand it into hours. I can only be present and aware of the canvas before me. “O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth shall show forth Your praise.” Psalm 51:15.
All the rest is trivial.