it's probably the light

When I try to picture my faith,
when I try to visualize it,
when I try to capture the invisible,
when I rest in palpable peace,
when I see love at it's brightest,
it's probably experienced, embraced, and understood in the light.

I try to imagine a place where it's so bright, the sun is secondary
I try to dream of a space where it's so brilliant, nothing man-made can imitate it
I try to see, really see God in others and it's when I see light

"The way of the righteous is like the 1st gleam of dawn." proverbs four: eighteen.

"I looked up and there before me was a man dressed in linen, with a belt of fine gold from Uphaz around his waist.  His body was like topaz, his face like lightning, his eyes like flaming torches, his arms like the gleam of burnished bronze, and his voice like the sound of a multitude. " daniel ten: five - seven

"I saw the glory of the God of israel coming from the east.  His voice was like the roar of rushing waters, and the land was radiant with his glory." ezekiel forty-three: one - three

"And the city has no need of the sun or moon, for the glory of God illuminates the city, and the Lamb is it's light." revelation twenty-one: twenty-three

I want to be surrounded, soaked, drenched, and drown in that light.

Amazing God,

Fill me with your light

Surround me with your brilliance

Awaken me to your presence

Soar through me

Amen

fading in fall

August is always amazing and difficult for me.
It's the climax of summer's shortening breath, it's the fading of bright light days into wisps of fall.

It's the hallmark of big days; it's my favorite things:
Birthday.  Anniversary.   The Summit.   State Fair. Weekends away. Garden harvesting.

It's burning hot and chilly cool.
It's unpredictable.
It's steady, steamy days.
It's expectation.

I guess because my world revolves around the anticipation of September, August fills me with so much anxiety.  I hold my breath in August and don't release it until the month passes away.

From the tender age of five until this, my fortieth year, I expect a lot of September.  And I use all my energy in August to build that pressure.
That wonder and hope and dream of September.
August signaled getting ready, ready to fade into fall.

New pencils.
Sharpened and smooth.
Erasers plump and full.
Colored pencils brilliant and new.

And crayons, and markers, and folders and notebooks.  Lined up, arranged, selected and stationed in a backpack ready to go.

New clothes. Folded by color, pressed, and prepared. New image.
New classes, new friends, new teachers, new relationships.

And feelings and emotions, expressions and attitudes lined up, arranged, selected and stationed in a heart ready to go.

Elementary school days and middle school days and high school days and college days and now, so many years of Sunday school days.
New ministry years.
New goals.
New, new, new.

Accomplish, exceed, conquer, preform.

I'm going to jump, again.  Leap into the predictably unpredictable free fall of leading volunteers. Of hopes matched with reality.  Of dreams meeting practicality.  Of struggles colliding with miracles.

As I stand on the doorstep of September, I am whimsically sober and  oh-so-hopeful.

Oh God, come; and Be.
And may I be still and see.