Position.
When steam restricts my view, when fog masks the landscape. When life obscures what is tangible, my heart can sink. I search for my foothold. My core needs a home. Somewhere to rest core bones, somewhere to call heaven. A place that doesn’t change but changes me. A word that is constant but that is constantly changing me. A love that is buried with my hurts and rose with my hope. When obscurity enters my life, I know where to stand.
The hope of up.
To lift, like the fisherman hauling up a net full of fish, lifted up, high for everyone to see. To bring into ascendancy a broken man, a fearful man. To make him complete. Like Mephibosheth, expecting the worst and receiving the best. A dove that soars from a river scene. A star that rises in the night sky, a compass for some, a threat to others. A wave that swells over a boat. A friend raised from a dark cold place, love died and found a way back again. Rose up. Me. Raising the hope of a life without an end.
Free energy.
It all comes through to me, positive and negative, I have no control over my greater circumstance. I could choose to burn when I have been burnt. I could choose hurt when I have been hurt.
I choose to take it all, good and bad, feed it all in and employ hope energy. A hope of a life that lives, it doesn’t die. A hope that springs back at rejection, hurt and disappointment. Like a car transferring momentum, I can transfer negative into positive. Some time ago an illustration similar to this took place at a wedding. The plentiful was turned into the scarce. The scraps into a feast, the few into many.
This is my journey from distortion to gem stone. From water into wine. From broken loaves and fishes into overflowing baskets, from an acorn to a tree. Planted in a well watered garden. Hope. Breathe.
Honesty.
How much distance between the truth of the world and where I rest my head? Neighbours or ends of the earth? Truth? Yeah, lives two doors away. Always coming round for a cup of tea and a slice of something squashy. Not the easiest of guests to be around but one of the most affirming.
Accept all.
Acceptance must be universal. Like roads we travel on or the bin bags we pack. Like sunrise and sunset, like hope, like restoration. They are for all, and treat all with parity. Acceptance must be universal, in those I see and those I do not. In the fabric of my relationships with everyone, acceptance must be universal.
Peri Peri Scope.
A mirror fixed somewhere in Heaven reflecting onto this troubled market town. A moving mirror, spotted in a market town attached on a word that became flesh exposing Heaven. A mirror on my heart, desperately seeking the word, to reflect, to shine, to glisten for a few moments in a troubled market town with word from Heaven.
My faith a periscope, a collection of prisms and mirrors. Seeing things that are otherwise out of sight. A revelation of what is above and up up and away. A tangible hope.
