The Outskirts of His Glory

Extract

When did you last listen to the grass grow?!  Or pay attention to the song being sung by that bird who always visits the back garden in the afternoon?  Oftentimes we become so waylaid by our own busyness and preoccupations we fail to even notice these things, much less stop and pay attention to them.

I sometimes suspect that the Lord has a greater sense of humour than we think, and that heaven is a place of laughter as much as it is of worship and adoration.  Not the little titters of polite appreciation but rambunctious roars and gleeful guffaws, burbling belly laughs of pure, untarnished joy.  Revelation says there will be no more sorrowing or sighing, no more tears or sadness – what else will be in their stead but smiles and delight?

When last did I tarry

                in this way of waiting

                       letting waves speak wonders

                       and sun leave smiles?

To sit with no purpose

                                no plan

                                       no plaything

 Merely to capture a world as it passes.

A twist of a tail

   And the wings of a kite –

            tethered not by string or line –

   Catch the thermal draft of upward air.

            Then low, now high

                                         in the sky.

Effortless entertainment

Delicious descent

        Joy in the call to accompany.

Could it be that all of this

       is shown so I might see

this life with all its fulness

    is your gracious 

        death-bought -

gift

                    for me?

And that I should live it

Full

and

Free.

Full

of laughter

Free

to play and pray and worship

     to feel the ups and downs

          the highs, the lows

               the mountaintops and valleys

Knowing that in you

      just you

I am (w)holy complete.

Full.

Joy

I have walked

   wandered

      stumbled

past you

so many times

Blind, I think, to even your presence.

Unaware, certainly, of your beauty.

 

I have fixed my attention on a point before me

    The destination the end

not the process.

The place the path is going

    hurriedly more important

    than the steps I tread today.

 

I have blended you with your neighbour

Labelled you both the same

Failed to see where the one has end

   or where the other starts.

 

I’ve gazed across a landscape

    Blurred the intricacy of individuality

Seen just one colour, one hue

    instead of seeing you.

 

And even as I’ve hummed along

whistling while I walk

I’ve drowned the lilt and melody

     of all the songs you’ve sung.

Deafened by my thoughts of me

      I’ve missed the call of you.

 

You, whose voice my Lover loves

     more unique than every snowflake

Bought with all of heaven’s Treasure

     more priceless than a pearl.

The masterpiece in the artist’s collection

Which demands I stop

notice

         remark

Cry, ‘Look, come over here

     to see what I have seen’.

 

To raise a flag of recognition

        a banner unfurled

a royal standard lifted

That other travellers and tourists

    pilgrims and passers-by

May not

     like me

fail to recognise the significance of you.

As I Pass

© 2018 by Anna Jensen