i'm finding that i'm touching the burning bush more and more.
it's a fine line between the sacred and the ordinary, and it's something i'm daily learning to understand. it confused me at first. the closer to the fire i grew, the more intricate the flames became.
did i never see Him before, in the ink and the dishes and the silverware? did i just see colour as a visual and not as intricately spiritual?
perspective can change a life. the ability to step back from a scene and look at the dirt and only see a footprint in the dust where nothing showed before. when you see eyes like transparent glass and tumbled messes as something beautiful to be savoured like art
doesn't that change you?
someone wrote me and said that they didn't understand. where did i get this pair of eyes that sees something where there is really nothing? am i just digging too deep or trying too hard?
is there really sacredness in laundry or freshly-laid eggs? or am i painting a portrait where there's really only a blank canvas?
:: but that's the thing about God ::
there is no line between sacred and ordinary. isn't that what we celebrate with white lights and candles and whispered stanzas of oh, holy night?
Heaven became Earth and sacred became touchable. I AM became little boy smiles and tangled brown curls over deep brown eyes and a Israeli childhood with prayers for Messiah's coming.
this Word become flesh and blood and bone and tears and smiles. this doorway smeared with blood on top and sides opened wide to the sacred and the ordinary melded together.
this burning bush of glory, of barefoot rejoicing and gentle choruses to welcome Emmanuel.
fall on your knees
oh night divine.