All Creation turns to the sun, and with hands upraised and open, my heart is given back to its Maker. The swirling questions have come rolling out in unbroken praise, and at once the mind is renewed, remade and whole. The minors had become majors, and as a pen of horses fights for the lead, so my heart has violently vied for its knowing. The brewing has eclipsed into showers of glory and the love of God shed abroad again in this little rusty pot. Does the creature long for much more than to love and be loved? I say not, and in every experience of rejection and unrequited love, the soul withers into a corner of comfortable capacities and deals out its hand in domesticated doses. Nothing of God's wild glory in humanity is to be pinched or tamed into manageable compartments because of our fear. I believe, friends, that God is calling us into His radical labor of love, where the cost is our all, and the reward is to be spent for Him. Listen to the peals of harmonious thunder and the quakes of His unfailing love.
He is a God who showed Himself beautifully, again, on a freckled and buoyant face, the heir of laughter and love refined. He shows Himself in the heart's dance when souls unite, and sorrows smile together, upholding, uplifting, and understanding the other. Thank you, God, holy One, Yahweh.


Yahweh, holy is Your name