They are all shining now, the crystal wine
glassed on our Welsh dresser. I suddenly felt this morning that I was to dust
the dresser, beginning with the top shelf; (and not knowing that I would be
ending there!) I washed a dozen, delicate crystal glasses in hot soapy water.
Now they sit back up on the Welsh dresser beaming with shining delight. The
sight of them has made me happy, and as light as air! It is like I have been
washed and polished, too!
Every natural thing I do speaks to me of
its spiritual counterpart and teaches me of my inner life. It is not something
that requires any effort it just happens it just comes to me. I am always being all taught of God, just as
he said, "AND THEY SHALL BE ALL TAUGHT OF GOD." (Isaiah 54: 13 / John 6: 45 / Hebrews 8: 11 / 1 John 2: 20) . . . We all are, if we want to be.
I sit now on our pale blue verandah, on
our pale blue covered sofa, and rest. I am watching a strange green caterpillar
creature on one of the purple candle flowers growing through the balustrade in
front me only half a metre from my face. Its movement so slow it is almost
imperceptible; but overnight it has moved a massive distance of twenty
centimetres from one flower to the next. I cannot figure out which is its head
end and which its tail. But as it now seems to be drinking from one of the
little flowerets; perhaps I have discovered its head end!
Much of my life seems to be upside down or
back to front: my path one of losing knowledge to gain it; and of not knowing
something in order to know it; inner-life being given me as imperceptibly as
breathing.
And in all this, I am constantly being misunderstood
by my friends: what is light to me seems to be only darkness to them, and our
fellowship is mostly in pleasant discussions about the weather, and all sorts
of nice outside things.
Although going unnoticed I am always
moving from one level of understanding to the next; and it is only and always
in decreasing.
Below the verandah is the end of the driveway.
Fine gravel with weeds, it is, with grass growing in patches; all going
un-sprayed: all living things are beautiful to me, even the weeds. I rejoice to
see my inner weeds: for then I can see myself as I really am in him: and that
light changes me more and more: and by degrees I am transformed in my beloved,
from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord.
The driveway is dappled now: sunlight
trying to find its way through the trees. It’s always carpeted with a
sprinkling of light amber: the fallen leaves from the huge pohutakawa tree
leaning over it.
Oh, it appears this area of the driveway
is an afternoon’s activity place for our five hens! Here they come, scratching
and pecking in the sunshine, fluffing out their feathers, digging out little
shallow sitting places, under the hedge at the edge of the drive. Here they are
bathing in the dry dust, making themselves clean. I, too, bathe in my own dust;
and it makes me clean: seeing myself as I am, totally nothing, and scum in the
eyes of the world: misunderstood and despised; and yet the more I see I am seen
inside the happier I am...made free there knowing God loves me utterly and totally
forgives me. I look up. The sky above
matches the colour of the verandah, exactly...and down it bends...and gathers
me beneath its soft protective wings...as a mother hen does caring for her
little children. I am loved and comforted and lifted so free I rise again with
my companion the Sky; and I am more in Heaven, for Heaven is more in me and I
laugh and dance on tiptoes inside me.
*
No comments:
Post a Comment