Cedars

(Matthew 19, John 2)

So this is my Shepherd’s gate,
the entrance to which certainly is not
what I had anticipated — the eyelet of a
needle for a camel to impossibly
navigate! But rather have emerged
the soft colors of gold and green, caught
in the autumn light of an
end-of-afternoon, cedar dream.
And a tear washes my cheek,
overcome by the unmerited, sweet
mercy that grace in beauty has
bathed me! Thus I realize at this very
late hour was freely revealed the
delicate veil which holds access to
Cana’s wedding feast and
shaded bower…

Song of Solomon 2:1

“I Am the Rose of Sharon, and the Lily of the Valleys”

“I have not come to call the
righteous, but sinners to repentance,” ^*
and thus defines the essential
appeal of Jesus, His compassion and
His mercy, and why so many in
the crowds would press around Him,
clutching at His garments,
as if His words were falling
upon good soil in the heretofore
barren desert of their ears,
and multiplying in each their hearts
a Rose of Sharon – beautiful
in hope, and in purity oblivious to
mortal anxieties and fears.

YHWH

Dear Lord God, eternal Father,
Creator of Heaven and earth, thank You for
the refuge of Your sheltering wings,
wings I, as your creature, can never describe, yet via a
smoky metaphor’s mirror they serve to soothe
my trembling. . .And thus towards them I crawl, O Lord,
to lie curled and fetal and protected beneath!
Whether in reality or dream, they are
what stands as my shield between me and the evil
of the serpent’s sting. Invisible as they be,
I sense their feathers outnumber the stars with the
scope and comfort of the shade and shadow of
their canopy. Such a haven You provide,
O Almighty “I AM,” faithful in Your protection and
promises, of which Your Heavenly hosts attest and sing!
Your wings I imagine radiate outward along
compass headings of Your Creation’s six days of work,
their azimuths streaking without beginning nor
ending, just the Truth of Your Writ and Word.
And I feel, Lord, that each radial line
is like a distinct Jacob’s Ladder, with
their center-point the beloved River Jordan, that
baptismal cup pouring forth the four letters
of Your Name’s grace and glory.

Holy, Holy, Holy

Lord, You are neither male
nor female in the limited terms in which
Your human creatures can think,
but the effect of Your Being
is akin to magnificent,
sheltering wings.
You provide shade and
shadow against life’s
blistering summer heat,
and at the first signs
of cold, Your wings enfold
into walls of comfort
against suffering. Your wings
are safe refuge for Your
creatures against storms
and terrors of the night, and against
anxieties which afflict their
sanity all efforts despite. How
good You are, Lord! How
generous and unyielding the
availability of Your
mercies! How so forgiving,
even to Adam and
Eve, who ignored Your
Garden of Eden warnings!
There is naught but
calmness in the Kingdom
beneath Your wings,
where supplicants can lie
at rest, lulled by the Sanctus in
angelic praise of Your
Love and Beauty.

Contemplating the Color of His Sacrifice

Sitting here,
The solitude around me
Is not just without sound. Its
Silence is painted
In blends of blood-red,
With nail holes and a
Spear puncture
Still softly oozing the
Aftermath of my sins, lo
Two millennia now His cruel
Calvary death, and
Even further back to when
The Serpent forked
Its tongue, and
Adam and Eve were
Cast outside the walls of
Eden’s heaven.