SIGNS, SCRIPTURE, SOARING

SIGNS, SCRIPTURE, SOARING

                On my Monday PM route, I step off the elevator on the pulp mill roof, and there it is.  A rainbow is shimmering in the log pile mist.  I cannot see this prismatic light refraction and not go, in my spirit, to the deluge of Noah’s day.  I see God’s presence in the aura of light.  There is a silent promise whispered.

                I sit down on the adjoining catwalk and take it all in.  I begin to muse, “God, you are everywhere, in everything, even in this mill!  Separate, yet present.  Holy, but sharing our space.  Other, but omnipresent.  You even came among us, in sinful flesh, yet sinless.  You dropped robes of divinity and took on our filthy rags.”

                “Show us the Father …” Phillip implored.  “I want to see you…” we sing with raised hands.  Yet, barely able to breathe, struggling for the Breath, would the shock finish us?!  To our knees we would fall, even redeemed in Heaven!

                My mind goes to your prophet’s words, “the arm of the Lord is not shortened … your sins have separated you …”  You ARE there, but our eyes do not see; they are blinded.  And, our ears do not hear; they are dulled.  On our death beds, we cannot arise to fellowship and laugh, rejoicing?!

                We parse the Book; we pursue the Light.  But, we tremble at the mountain.  Yet, you leave us whispers, crumbs on the trail, footprints, yearnings within.  Silence the world’s din, that we might better hear you.  Scatter the birds before they steal the crumbs.  Deepen the tracks; purify the longings.  To the heights we would soar!  Send the eagles.