Posted by Gina Higgins
Springtime is a natural time to think of the air turning warmer, the grass and plants becoming green again, and flowers beginning to bloom.
I was thinking about "blooming" the other day during a soaking prayer time and it was like I could see the whole process unfold before my eyes - kind of like what time-elapsed photography of a flower blooming looks like.
It occurred to me that this could be similar to what God's perspective might be like. He can see things in a manner and He knows the beauty and color of the bloom before we even see the bud!
What came into my spirit though was that what is most beautiful to Him is not just the flower in it's full splendor but the process of blooming.
It is like the difference between looking at a picture of the bud and then a picture of the full bloom or watching the time-elapsed footage of each petal unfolding. One petal unfolds on top of the other revealing yet another petal gently pushing forth; emerging...and when it has reached the edge of it's beautiful stretch toward the sun...it graciously surrenders and lies down creating a soft place to fall for each new petal that will now reveal it's full beauty as it unfolds... and repeats the process until we behold each lovely, separate unfolding in one beautiful and glorious bloom!
God is so patient. He doesn't wait until we've bloomed to look upon us. He chooses to be with us in each unfolding moment of our lives. God is so - well, God! So at peace with everything because He knows. He doesn't strive with us nor does He fear when the storm comes. He already knows we will weather it just fine and be more beautiful for it. He has seen the glory of His finished creation in the fullness of it's bloom - and He is well pleased.
I am the spring crocus blooming on the Sharon Plain,
the lily of the valley.
Song of Solomon 2:1 NLT
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Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Sunday, March 9, 2008
The Caves of Christ
Christ my Savior,
Your earthly life was lived between two rooms of rock;
book ended by cold, hard, places.
Comfortless caverns
held Your coming in and Your going out.
The first,
the Cave of the Nativity
where You were incarnated;
where a tiny baby took the first breaths of life
in a night saturated with starlight.
In this rock hard bedroom of a child
You were lulibied by angels.
There in it's the dusty air
You were watched by
the adoring eyes of a young mother,
barely more than a child herself,
the bleary eyes of sleepy shepherds,
startled awake by a symphonic sky,
and the wide eyes of burly beasts
huddled together for protection.
Emmanuel,
G-d's perfection touching the
gritty, grimy, real and raw.
This craggy creche, yet cave of hope
saw my faith flicker to life.
Amid the rubble there,
I find such joy, such excitement. such tender love.
But, my Lord,
I know that it's worth to my life cannot be separated
from that of the second,
the stark and solemn cave of death,
the tomb of Joseph of Aramathea;
a cave where stifling, stenching darkness
could not put out the Living Light;
a cave named Empty each Easter morning.
There in Your silent escape of shrouding
my faith finds form.
Even in my fear
I'm drawn to it.
I run with Peter,
my heart pounding.
I stumble in in disbelief,
as a beloved disciple.
Tears fill my eyes like those of Mary
seraching, yearning,
each time I await the pronouncement
of its discontinued use.
Oh, Lord, Your rocky places,
these caves of confession,
are foundations of my faith.
of a very lived reality,
of G-d's enormous and ingenious love.
Millie Mitchmore
Your earthly life was lived between two rooms of rock;
book ended by cold, hard, places.
Comfortless caverns
held Your coming in and Your going out.
The first,
the Cave of the Nativity
where You were incarnated;
where a tiny baby took the first breaths of life
in a night saturated with starlight.
In this rock hard bedroom of a child
You were lulibied by angels.
There in it's the dusty air
You were watched by
the adoring eyes of a young mother,
barely more than a child herself,
the bleary eyes of sleepy shepherds,
startled awake by a symphonic sky,
and the wide eyes of burly beasts
huddled together for protection.
Emmanuel,
G-d's perfection touching the
gritty, grimy, real and raw.
This craggy creche, yet cave of hope
saw my faith flicker to life.
Amid the rubble there,
I find such joy, such excitement. such tender love.
But, my Lord,
I know that it's worth to my life cannot be separated
from that of the second,
the stark and solemn cave of death,
the tomb of Joseph of Aramathea;
a cave where stifling, stenching darkness
could not put out the Living Light;
a cave named Empty each Easter morning.
There in Your silent escape of shrouding
my faith finds form.
Even in my fear
I'm drawn to it.
I run with Peter,
my heart pounding.
I stumble in in disbelief,
as a beloved disciple.
Tears fill my eyes like those of Mary
seraching, yearning,
each time I await the pronouncement
of its discontinued use.
Oh, Lord, Your rocky places,
these caves of confession,
are foundations of my faith.
of a very lived reality,
of G-d's enormous and ingenious love.
Millie Mitchmore
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