Why we must sing

Into yesterday’s questions, yesterday’s glimpse of poverty and inability to praise, God speaks through a woman who has asked the same questions. 

"I know there is poor and hideous suffering and I’ve seen the hungry and the guns that go to war. But I have lived pain and my life can tell: I only deepen the wound of the world when I neglect to give thanks for early light dappled through leaves and the heavy perfume of peonies in June and the song of crickets on summer humid nights and the rivers that run and the stars that rise and the rain that falls and all the good things that a good God gives.

How does it save the world to reject unabashed joy when it is Joy Who saves us? Rejecting joy to stand in solidarity with the suffering doesn’t rescue the suffering. The converse does.

The brave who focus on all things good and all things beauty and all things true, even in the small, who give thanks for it and discover joy even in the here and now, they are the change agents who bring fullest Light to the all the world.” 

Ann Voscamp ~One Thousand Gifts, A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are

And so today I give thanks. I still feel the pain of yesterday’s sidewalk-dwelling fellow image-bearers. But it doesn’t stop me from praising. It makes it all the more essential that I do.

Today I celebrate the God of the impossible. The God who is able to do more than we ask or imagine. The One who stepped into the pain and felt it himself so he could exchange despair for hope.

This is the Extravagant Giver who does not stop at essentials but pours out blessing upon blessing, a whole sky-full of one lavish canvas after another, the show changing every moment for more than an hour.

And I sing because he is not oblivious to the state of the world. He weeps with the poor. But he knows that evil will not have the last word. Love will. And so he paints beauty and declares hope and shouts his love and I must too.

So I sing to this Lavish Lover who calls us to give and then gives it all back and tells us to use it to host a party with him and the poor at the center.

Be sure to set aside a tenth of all that your fields produce each year. Eat the tithe of your grain, new wine and oil, and the firstborn of your herds and flocks in the presence of the LORD your God at the place he will choose as a dwelling for his Name, so that you may learn to revere the LORD your God always. But if that place is too distant and you have been blessed by the LORD your God and cannot carry your tithe (because the place where the LORD will choose to put his Name is so far away), then exchange your tithe for silver, and take the silver with you and go to the place the LORD your God will choose. Use the silver to buy whatever you like: cattle, sheep, wine or other fermented drink, or anything you wish. Then you and your household shall eat there in the presence of the LORD your God and rejoice. And do not neglect the Levites living in your towns, for they have no allotment or inheritance of their own. (Deuteronomy 14:22-27)

I sing because nothing is too hard for him, and one day all that is wrong will be set right and there will be no more tears or sorrow or homelessness.

More of the endless gifts:

Never ending Love-paintings in the sky

Faithfulness new every morning

Hope in the darkest of places

Hearts that can hurt and heal and beat with His heartbeat

Being called to share his life

The promise that all will be made new.

When your heart breaks for the broken

This morning I planned to write of God’s lavish generosity. Now I cannot. 

I passed too many broken people on the street on my way home. Two slouched against a wall, cardboard signs proclaiming fragments of their stories. An old man sprawled near the crosswalk, useless legs angled awkwardly beneath him. A stooped grandfather paced, weeping, pleading with passersby for just a few cents. Most did not raise their eyes from the pavement, spirits and bodies broken from years of neglect and abuse. 

"He defended the cause of the poor and needy . . . . Is that not what it means to know me?” declares the LORD. (Jeremiah 22:16)

How different, this, from our comfortable ideas of what it means to know God.  I cry out to know God, to hear his heartbeat. Today he shows up not with warm comfort but with a summons into lives and places I fear to go. His heart, which beats rest and peace and generosity, beats for all. It beats justice and love and hope and righteous anger and it beats that this homelessness and hopelessness is not how things were meant to be. Every person should know they are special. Every one should belong.

I cannot hear the heartbeat of God unless I am willing to go where it can be heard. He walks among the desperately needy. When I refuse to follow, fearing the disclosure of my own desperate poverty, his heartbeat fades into the distance. I long to know God, to hear his heartbeat and have mine beat in time with his. . . yet still I freeze when I walk past someone sitting on the scrap of pavement they call home.

Our worlds are so far apart. I don't know how to connect. What does it mean for me - an introvert who struggles with meeting new people no matter who they are, a person with a disability that prevents me standing for more than a few minutes, a resident of a large western city – what does it mean for me to defend the cause of the poor and needy?

I don’t know yet.

I do know that the enormity of the need is overwhelming. Thankfully, I am not asked to care for all. Hope comes through healing relationships, and I cannot befriend everyone.

God does not ask me to befriend everyone. But he does call me to see each person as one who bears his image, however tarnished it might be.  Every image bearer, whether a friend, a checkout clerk, or someone living rough, deserves certain simple courtesies: a smile, a kind response to their words, an acknowledgement of their presence. With time, maybe I can even learn to speak a gentle greeting first. And I can always whisper a prayer to the only One who can restore their health and freedom, to the only One able to heal the fear that keeps me from reaching out.

I can ask God to help me see them as he sees them, to see myself as he sees me. To help me remember how little difference there is between us.

I can refuse to shut out the pain. I can continue to listen for God’s heartbeat, allowing the longing for justice and hope to grow.  I can choose to follow the sound of his heartbeat, though I do not know where it will lead.

Today, that is all that He asks.

When you wonder if God is holding out on you

He hugs me tight, holding me close a second longer as though he wants to send his gentle strength with me. Before he speaks goodbye to me he speaks over me, speaks about me to Another, words of blessing, of love, of hope and trust. He has given me so much, this precious father of mine. But this is the greatest of all, this blessing in which he places me into the arms of another Father, this moment when earth and heaven merge and I hear the blessing that since creation has been spoken over humankind now spoken over me, spoken this time through the familiar voice of my father. Two fathers, both blessing, the one through the other.

Among the first words spoken when this world was new were words of blessing. The startling statement comes right after the repeated “Let there be”s, and before the commissions and command.

“God blessed them.” (Gen 1:28)

It is among the first things we learn about this Other. He is a blessing God, one who delights to give, to love, to embrace, to cherish.  How is it that I still fear complete surrender to these arms which long only to bless?  Why do I still hold back when he reminds me that he holds nothing back from me?

“He who did not withhold his own son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else?” (Romans 8:32)

Have I been so awed by the power of the One whose words birthed us that I have failed to hear the gentle heartbeat of love that conceived us? Or perhaps I have focused on the commands and failed to see that they are an overflow of the blessing, an invitation to be so drawn into the center of the blessing that we become part of the blessing.

Or perhaps, along with the first humans (and every one since?) I have fallen for the lie that God is holding out on us, keeping back the best, holding us down instead of lifting us up. Of course, few of us would state it so bluntly. But is it not that subconscious fear that causes us to ask “why?” when we lose our health or career or someone we love? Is that not the reason behind our anxiety when life feels unpredictable and out of control? Why should I need to be in control if I am confident that I am safe in the arms of a Father who longs to bless?

How can I learn to live in the truth that God is a God who blesses, rather than continuing to live in the lie so ingrained in us since the fall? I can start by listening to the longing in the voice of the One who calls in a myriad of ways. Yesterday it was through a waiting elevator when I was running late, through a golden clouded love note written in the sky. Today He calls through Brian Doerksen’s “Song for the Bride”:

RETURN TO ME - SONG FOR THE BRIDE

(Isaiah 30:15) 

From the ancient days until today I have inspired prophets and poets And at the heart of every message Are these three words Return to me I am your Creator – Return to me I am your Redeemer; Your Father – return to me I am your husband – return to me

I have longed to hold you in my arms

And take all of your fear away

I will take your filthy rags and make them clean

If you receive my love, if you will receive my love

Return to Me            and hear my Spirit say

In repentance and rest            is            your            salvation

In quietness and trust            is            your            strength

Today may we each take our place with the rest of creation listening to the heartbeat of the One who waits and calls and pours out blessing upon blessing, longing for us to notice.

When you’re down on yourself

When we were children, if Dad caught one of us doing something we shouldn’t have been doing, he would often frown and say “grrrrowwwllll.” He spoke gently, never raising his voice, but we knew that we had better stop what we were doing.

Now sometimes I hear the Life-giving Lion gently growl at me through the pages of Scripture. His growl is a warning, but not a fearful one. It is a warning that moves me in the direction of Life, breathing love and peace and joy over me even as he growls. Today I hear the healing growl in Romans 8:33-34.

“Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who is he that condemns? Christ Jesus who died - more than that, who was raised to life - is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us.”

These verses picture God as the Judge and Jesus as the defense attorney. I am the defendant.

But far too often, I find myself stepping into the seat of the prosecutor. “That was so stupid. I can’t believe you did that!” “You’re so selfish. Lazy too. Maybe if you’d just try harder. . .” “Will you ever learn from your mistakes?” “Just look at yourself. How can God ever use someone like you?”

Not content to be the prosecutor, I even try to take the position of judge, declaring myself guilty and handing down a sentence.

Into this unruly crowd of one, the True Judge speaks, reminding me that there are enough prosecutors without taking that position myself. And there is only One qualified to judge.

The Lion’s gentle growl reminds me that the verses from Romans 8 speak not merely of the inability of others to charge or condemn me. They speak also to my tendency to step into the seat of prosecutor and judge. “Who do you think you are, to condemn yourself, when I have declared you righteous?” God alone has the right to make the final call. And, incredibly, it is God who justifies.

I could not have a better defense attorney. Since the time when he stepped down to serve the death sentence himself, he does not leave his place, a continual presence reminding the Judge, the prosecutors, and the defendant (should I care to hear), that the maximum sentence has already been served and the defendant can no longer be held liable.

“Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” (Romans 8:1)

May you, too, know the freedom of being merely the defendant, and the joy of hearing the Defense Attorney and the Judge declare you no longer guilty.

How to live freely

I feel their fingers again, fingers of resentment and tight-fistedness squeezing the life out of joy and generosity. Why do I feel I have to carefully guard every moment, every penny, every ounce of energy, when You, Abba, are such an Extravagant Giver? Do I fear that you will decide to stop being generous? All that I give  is such a small portion of what you have lavished on me. Do I think I have to hoard what You have given in case You don’t give again? But You are not fickle like my heart. It is Your very nature to give lavishly. Can I not trust You in this?

“He who did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all, will He not also along with Him graciously give us all things?”

I think of the story a friend recently told me from Sleeping with Bread by Dennis Linn. People working with orphans in post World War II Germany found that even once these starved orphans were given new homes with plenty of food, they were unable to sleep, fearful that there would not be food for the following day. They could not sleep until they were given a piece of bread to hold onto while they slept. Then, reassured that there would be food for tomorrow, they slept soundly.

I am learning that giving thanks for the extravagant gifts helps me to rest in God’s character and know that He who is my Provider will not stop providing. He will not stop loving. I can rest, confident that the One who has provided so lavishly for today will provide for tomorrow as well.


A few of the many blessings:

long Sunday afternoon naps

the smell of frying onions

mushroom sandwiches

a bright red tank top in my size on the clearance rack

Taize songs

Regent bookstore sales

flute and violin duets

a multiethnic group of small children delightedly chasing pidgeons

a leisurely walk along the sea wall

being followed by a Canada goose

sunsets reflected in the water

Listening through Lament

We listen best in silence. But sometimes we can’t reach stillness. The noise in our own hearts is too great. The longings, the fears, the disappointments, the anger overwhelm our ability to rest. How then do we listen? In these times, we listen through lament. Then it is through our own crying out that we most clearly hear and share the pain in the heart of God.

In our culture that seeks to drown pain and reaches for pleasure at all costs, we miss hearing the somber tones in the heartbeat of God. Certainly His heart beats the bright tones of joy and the soft tones of peace and the strong tones of love. But joy is borne of sorrow, and love hurts, and the heart of God also beats the deep tones of lament.

“Rejected by His people, hounded by a hopeless sense of separation from the ones He loved the most - the Lord shared these feelings with His young shepherd king. David would lament them again and again to God, as God would lament them through David. Lament became a bridge between them. They would cross it again and again in their loneliness and find each other.” (Michael Card, A Sacred Sorrow, p. 68)

In lament, we hear and share the pain in the heart of God. The pain of separation. The longing for presence and oneness. We affirm with God that this is not how things should be. When we deny ourselves permission to lament, we cut ourselves off not only from our own hearts, and from those around us, but also from the heart of God.

As we lament our sin, declaring our inability to repair the problems in us and around us, the kingdom of God comes near. Sorrow breaks through into praise. The One who himself laments disrupted relationship draws near to comfort and restore. And we hear the Heartbeat that speaks the final Word of Love.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” (Matthew 5: 3-4)

The Choosing to Feel

God,
sometimes it feels so hard
it seems that all our love
all our attempts to help
are rebuffed

Sometimes I wonder
why do we even bother?

Wouldn’t it be easier
to close our eyes to the pain
to choose not to see
not to love
and thus not to feel the hurt ourselves?

• • • • •

It started well                                                                                  Gen 1
pure love
complete intimacy
perfection

delight in creating
satisfaction in the created
“It is good”                                                                                     Gen 1:31

desire                                                                                             Gen 1:26
to share the enjoyment

then . . .

loneliness as you looked for your friends?                                        Gen 3:8-9
hurt at their hiding from you. . .
at the maligning of your motives?                                                     Gen 3:2-5

grief at the so-rapid destruction of your joyfully created beauty?
anger at the Evil that had done this. . .                                              Gen 3:14
the twisting of your words. . .
the deceit?

the murder of one you loved                                                            Gen 4:4, 10
rising violence and wickedness until
only evil, evil, evil
evil thoughts, evil actions                                                                  Gen 6:5

and for you
as you watched
deeper and deeper grief
intolerable pain                                                                                Gen 6:6

the decision to extinguish                                                                  Gen 6:7
all of your ruined creation
to wipe out
the evil
and hence the pain

• • • • •

Another decision
a choice                                                                                           Gen 9:9-17
a promise

the decision to never again
so completely destroy
even ruined creation

the choice to feel
to love

the promise to continue in relationship
despite the risk of pain

• • • • •

too soon
more desperate hurt
a vying for your place                                                                       Gen 11:4

again a choice
a promise
not only to keep loving
but to bless                                                                                      Gen 12:3
all nations

All.

All those you had just scattered in punishment                                   Gen 11:6-9
and protection

• • • • •

Love
tenderness                                                                                        Is 63:15
yearning                                                                                           Jer 31:20

hurt
grief                                                                                                  Jer 3:19-20
anger                                                                                                Ps 95:10
                                                                                                        Deut 32:19
longing                                                                                              Is 30:18

rejection                                                                                            Deut 32:15-18
as time and again                                                                               Is 53:3
those you loved so passionately
those you chose
also chose . . .

a lifeless, worthless substitute                                                             Jer 2:11-13
over the living, life-giving You

Again and again
a choice
to keep feeling
keep loving
the love and the pain
inseparable

“What can I do with you?”                                                               Hos 6:4
. . . yet “How I can I give you up?”                                                   Hos 11:8

“And he could bear Israel’s misery no longer”                                   Judg 10:16
“His heart was filled with pain”                                                          Gen 6:6
“Enough!”                                                                                         2 Sam 24:16

So often seemingly too much to bear
. . . yet
. . . the choice

Again and again
judgement

but always too a reaffirmation
of the choice

to keep feeling
to keep loving
to open yourself to the certainty of more pain
more tears

Indescribable grief                                                                             Matt 26:38
desertion                                                                                           Matt 27:46
rejection                                                                                            Matt 27:22
intolerable pain                                                                                  Luke 22:44
alone in your death.

• • • • •

“Take up your cross”                                                                         Matt 16:24
that instrument of pain

The same choice

To follow me                                                                                     John 15:12-13
you must choose to feel
the pain that comes with loving

There is no other way.                                                                       Luke 14:27
 

At the Center of Love’s Circle

Today we welcome a new little girl.

We celebrate life’s mystery and wonder. . . Who is this tiny being? What will she love? How will she dream and dance and change her little part of the world?

I am awestruck at the thought of being entrusted with a life to love and tend and help to discover who she is. What did the Father imagine as he knit her together? What special treasures did he bury for her to discover and share? What dreams did he plant? What longings inspire?

And I wonder. . . How do you help a child delight in her beauty and uniqueness without nurturing self-centeredness?

You do it as God does: lavishly celebrating who she is. . . and then helping her see the treasure in others too.

The little girl twirls into the room, all frills in her white sundress.

“Daddy, didn’t Jesus make me beautiful?”

“Yes he did, Treasure. And precious, and wonderful and I love you so much!”

And I see the circle of Love that puts us each at the center. The Mighty God begins the celebration. It starts quietly, gently, whispering private delight. A special name. Secret thoughts just for her. The little girl is held close, quieted, renewed in his Love. She snuggles in. The singing begins, soft at first then rising, swelling, as she is lifted high, celebrated and enjoyed and cherished. She is his, a true masterpiece. She bears his mark, reflects his image in a way like no other. She is loved. Loved! By the One at the center of the universe. The dance goes on and on, drawing her deeper into Love. And as the Mighty One sets her down, she becomes part of the Circle of Love drawing others in and lifting them up to see who they are.

“Isn’t it fun to know you are beautiful? How can we help your friend know she is beautiful too?”

“My soul, bless God,

don't forget a single blessing! . . .

He crowns you with love and mercy — a paradise crown.

He wraps you in goodness — beauty eternal.

He renews your youth — you're always young in his presence.”

(Psalm 103:2-5, the Message)

Congratulations, Jon and Katie and Liam. Welcome, precious little girl.

My favorite reason to rest

It never ceases to amaze me how I can turn almost anything into a burden. A new adventure, a new call, however exciting, can feel heavy when I take it into my own hands.

I’m not alone.

“Then they despised the pleasant land, having no faith in his promise.” (Psalm 106:24)

Why, when God calls me out of Egypt to the promised land of rest, do I complain about the trip, looking back to predictable slavery rather than forward to offered freedom? Why, when invited to lay my head on Jesus’ breast and listen to his heartbeat, do I persist in making do lists?

In my work, my most common complaint has been the pressure to “do,” to work faster and longer and accomplish more. Buried beneath the complaint lies a longing for space to listen to my Abba’s heartbeat and live in tune with it. But too often I have lived out of a sense of responsibility rather than response-ability. Too often I live according to perceived expectations rather than choosing to live at a pace that makes room for that which is most important to me. Why? Why do I do this? I fear that my life won’t matter, that I won’t make a difference. Ironically, in living out of that fear, I fail to respond to the call placed deep within to become who I am created to be, and thus miss out on the only way I can really make a unique and beautiful difference!

Why does God in his mercy call us to rest?

He made us. He does not forget that we are weak and fragile, and constantly needing refreshment in every level of our beings to live well.

He commands rest, too, as a reminder, a sign.

“. . .the Sabbath. . . will be a sign between me and the Israelites forever. . .” (Ex 31:16-17)

A sign of what?

"Say to the Israelites, 'You must observe my Sabbaths. This will be a sign between me and you for the generations to come, so you may know that I am the LORD, who makes you holy.” (Ex 31:13)

"Keep my Sabbaths holy, that they may be a sign between us. Then you will know that I am the LORD your God." (Ezek 20:20)

Rest proclaims God’s being and doing as ultimate. God does not ask us to carry the burdens of the world - or even of making ourselves perfect. God carries the world’s burdens. He carries us.

And it gets better. My favorite reason to rest is that it brings God glory. I have often treated rest like a mere necessity to gain strength to get on with doing the things through which God can really glorify Himself. But God glorifies Himself not just through the work that He does in and through us, but through the rest that He provides for us:

"Like cattle that go down to the plain, they were given rest by the Spirit of the LORD. This is how you guided your people to make for yourself a glorious name." (Isa 63:14)

Entering into God’s gift of rest glorifies God by showcasing God’s tender and extravagant care for His people. Isn’t that what the gospel is really all about? At its most basic, the good news is that God does for us what we can’t do for ourselves. He comes up with a way to make us holy. And he not only gives us the bare basics of freedom from hell, but so many incredible blessings both for now and for all of eternity. As John Piper notes, if you find a clear fresh spring of water, the best way to bring glory to that spring is not by getting a bucket and running around trying to bring more water to the spring but by drinking deeply from the spring and as you find yourself satisfied, saying, “Ahhhhhh! That was good!”

Abba, may my entering into your rest today bring you glory!





Today I'm writing in community with others. If you wish to read what others have written about rest, click on the button above.

Hope in Shattered Places

“. . . We live in the shadow of the fall
But the cross says these are all
Places where grace is soon to be so amazing
It may be unfulfilled
It may be unrestored
But when anything that's shattered is laid before the Lord
Just watch and see
It will not be unredeemed . . .”
(Selah “Unredeemed”)

On this Monday celebrating the thousand gifts, the truth of God’s re-creating grace tops my list. I love watching how God brings Life and Hope out of the most painful of places.

A few other gifts on my list:

fruit smoothies

warm sun on bare arms

the laughter of children on the playground

little boys imagining sticks into trucks

a dog chasing a ball

washing machines (much easier than hand scrubbing!)

four-part a capella hymns sung with a large congregation

cool early summer morning air

constantly changing colors in the sky at twilight

God’s lavish generosity that keeps pouring on the gifts faster than I can count

a thousand risings full of God's faithful love

A Thousand Risings

On a clear day

she rises in an instant

dawn’s faint light

consumed in brightness.

Yet when fog lingers

over still water

or clouds scale

the day’s new sky

gold is stretched

along waiting’s edges

revelation magnified

as glory is mirrored

in the transformed greyness.

Your daily faithfulness

unchanged

through a thousand risings

is new every morning

 

Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed,

for his compassions never fail.

They are new every morning;

great is your faithfulness.

Lamentations 3:22-23

Loved Dust

Most days I’m aware of my dustiness. This morning is no exception. I wake early after a half-slept night. My body groans as it faces the day. Today, so does my heart. Ever been there?

Limitations frustrate. But they also bear a reminder that sets free. Before I’m anything else, before I’m a doctor, a daughter, a friend, I am dust. Shaped of mud, a Hand-spun clay jar at once unique and easily broken. I am not built to carry the weight of the world. Another does that. I am made only to bear the light that is placed within me.

I’m dust. But not just any dust. Loved dust. The Heart that dreamed you, the Hand that shaped me, doesn’t forget our Breath-filled-clay beginnings. He doesn't forget that though we bear the dignity and glory of  Image-bearers, we still wear the frailty of dust. He carries his fragile treasure gently, care-fully. In my transience and vulnerability, I discover myself loved. Forever.

This morning the reminder of my loved-ness came through a changed class schedule which fits my body’s current demands. Thank you, Gentle Potter, for loving these bits of dust in such tender and practical ways!

As a father has compassion for his children,
so the LORD has compassion for

those who fear him.

For he knows how we were made;

he remembers that we
are dust.(Psalm 103:13-14 NRSV)

Our days on earth are like grass;

like wildflowers, we bloom and die.

The wind blows, and we are gone—

as though we had never been here.

But the love of the Lord remains
forever with those who fear him.

(Ps 103:15-17 NLT)

May you, too, in the midst of today’s challenges, be reminded that you are loved dust.

Carolyn

(You may also appreciate the echoes of God's faithfulness in our very evident vulnerability in Psalm 102)

In Faithfulness

In faithfulness
you have afflicted me

in gracious love
which gently passes my desires
to fill my deepest needs

so though I may not understand
the whys of this place
into which you have brought me

I know that you are here

and that the seasons of my life
are held by hands
pierced by love for me

As I spend time in this place
bring me to where I can say
it was good for me to be afflicted
that I might learn
the binding ways of life
engraved
into my being
inscribed
in all creation
ways born out of your goodness
and longing
to give me your best
ways shaped by your wisdom and
intimate knowledge of me

the easy, freeing balance
of full life
loving and living loved
working and resting
receiving and pouring it all
at your feet

I still don’t fully understand
the whys of this place

and I don’t need to

You
ever faithful
are here

Extravagance

Roadside ditch
splashed
with purple irises
dense woods
crowned
with painted leaves
hidden fields
blanketed
with yellow and blue wildflowers

everywhere
creation replete with
so much more than
mere functionality

glory scattered
almost wasted
in its unquenchable overflow
from its Center

this is You
Extravagant Giver
Lavish Lover
Enthusiastic Celebrant of Life and Beauty

Creator God
how often do I ask for
basic sufficiency
when You want
to love me with extravagance?

How often do I see
only utility
and miss
celebration
abundance
delight?

Father who dances and sings
over me
who lavishes on me
incomparable riches
Your own Son
most precious gift
and everything else as well

Oh, how I want to know You
in Your fullness
in Your enormity

as much of You as I can see
and not be utterly destroyed
as much as You can pour into
little me

The edges of adequacy
are not enough

Bring me further into You
Center of all beauty

opening my eyes
stretching my heart
awakening me to Your lavishness
and enabling me to
receive and respond
in extravagance