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vespers. an evening prayer service.
and we hummed a gentle song to the splash of water-drops on the surface of the water, a song i've whispered familiar since the day i first dared to touch, even before i knew what it was. we had church together, me nestled at His feet, the rain tapping out the hymn-rhythm
what wondrous love is this
oh my soul, oh my soul
all i wanted to do was press my face into the sandy soil. even now, sitting here in my space, sky darkening and stars rising on the other side of the windowpane, i yearn to lean up and brush my cheek against His palm.
why do we only think that God is in a building, tucked among supposed "sacredness," confined in a neat-pressed suit in the front row? He isn't a tame Lion. what is our obsession with caging God?
the sky is big, but He's bigger, and He made it string by string. the Lord of Heaven was humble enough to spin threads into skeins, weaving chords into fabric, tossed out wide and streaked with His own brand of love-paint.
:: why must we make Him fit our tiny space?
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we debate heatedly between unforseen and sloppy wet, back and forth as though all salvation depended upon words in a song that mean nothing when we should be in wondrous soul-gasping at oh, how He loves us, oh...
we shut the door on His story and tie a muzzle around the mouth of the Lion of Judah because the words He speaks aren't the ones that sit smooth. milk is cool and simple, nothing complex, nothing wild. and so we pour out the Blood behind the bushes and pass the milk-filled chalice around. it's easier to swallow.
we censor glory to fit our mouths and shut the lid on Light when it's just too bright without sunglasses, and we left ours at home. He is Light without a spotlight or a pulpit or a podium to make His space appropriate.
He is where His are.
and so i'm going to have vespers in the wild, tucked in the moments between His every breath. i'm diving into His space, the ocean of His glory, and letting Him shed away my snakeskin for a sacred-Lioness mane and a mermaid tail.
what do i know of You who spoke me into motion?
where have i even stood but the shore along Your ocean?
what do i know of holy // addison road
you are a prophet poetess.
ReplyDeleteoh my soul is blessed by you, dear friend.
Deletegrace spilling all over this page. the whisper to come to the quiet echoing from this page. i love it, and these are my fave words "so i'm going to have vespers in the wild, tucked in the moments between His every breath. i'm diving into His space, the ocean of His glory." just. plain. beautiful
ReplyDeleteoh sweet Marvia, your presence here is a whisper. i love the way you see what needs to be seen.
Deletepersonally i am a fan of the sloppy wet kiss...smiles...i love that song...i think we often argue the silliest points, missing the point.....
ReplyDeleteand I so much prefer the unforseen. funny, isn't it?
Deletearguing the points and missing THE point. mm yes.
Love, love, love this.
ReplyDelete"He is where His are."
That should be enough for us. It's overflowing. Thanks for sharing your experience. It's valuable to all of us.
to know that my experience can touch even just one person. that alone makes my heart lift.
Deleteoverflow with Life, dear one.
I had a comment and I think it got lost in cyberspace. But the part that really sticks out to me is that I hope we all have the courage to have vespers in the rain.
ReplyDeleteThis is my kind of vespers, Rachel. Such beauty here.
ReplyDeleteI haven't visited in a while because I took a break but so glad to see your are still your wonderful you with a heart of gold! Be blessed, friend.
ReplyDeleteMaria @ Bloom
Oh, Rachel, the line about milk from the chalice and blood behind the bushes just about did me in. My husband and I are reading The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe aloud to our girls right now and I never get over the wild, unsafe, goodness of Aslan. Thank you for those holy echoes here today. You are a beautiful writer.
ReplyDeletewhy do we only think that God is in a building, tucked among supposed "sacredness," confined in a neat-pressed suit in the front row? He isn't a tame Lion. what is our obsession with caging God?
ReplyDeleteI LOVED your vespers in the rain. Beautiful post...
My Michael and I recently "had church" one misty Sunday morning at the river's edge-- and I wrote about it too, Worship en plein air. And I didn't feel guilty about not being present at chapel that day for God is NOT in a box and Aslan IS on the move only it frightens some of us to think just how big and awesome is our God. And perhaps it's easier to put God in a box and then check Him off and go on to the next item on the to do list instead of breathing Him in during every moment He gives us...