See to Say

Thou art thou, thus I am I; but time is time.

I had a vision, I admit or confess reluctantly, very reluctantly, which occurred while resting in bed one evening and has not diminished as dreams diminish or evolve.

 

I saw a path leading to a white throne. The throne was white, as ivory. The throne featured ornament in the shape of horns and flowers emanating from it. To either side of the path were six lambs on both sides of the path, 12 in all, not facing the throne directly, but inclined at about a 45 degree angle.

Beneath the path and spreading out on all sides, or at least to the right and left, seemingly circular, at something like a foot or two beneath the path and the lambs and the throne, was a pool of emerald green, which I understood to be water, but was perfectly calm. At a distance of some 100 feet or so, perhaps a bit closer, or farther, was a strange, dark woods. Like the edge of a forest but made of stone. There were no gaps. The trees were uniform in height, say, 15 feet or so, with thick trunks and rich foliage, but impenetrable. Where I looked for space between the trees was a dense, inadmissible wall of rock, like sandstone. The trees themselves featured brown trunks and dark green, absolutely immovable foliage, as if they too were made of stone. They formed an impenetrable wall.

 

 

Overhead was pure blue, seemingly close, but at the same time impossibly far away. I don't know how else to describe it.

 

The throne – and I have thought about this for a few days now, hoping to understand my impression – was empty to me eyes, though I am certain it was not empty, in fact, in impression. I cannot offer any other description – however the throne was not empty, and I am at a loss to describe the form or nature of presence, either by which the throne itself was invested or occupied.

I will say this, as I am compelled to say this at the moment of this writing, to say, to write and say as one whose head is bowed, forgive me, that I believe that the Lord, impossible to my eyes, resided there. I cannot say other, for the throne was apparent in all its details but most certainly was not empty. No, I am sure of that. No. Like the word “love” bearing on the lips of a lover, the Lord was there, impossible to my poor, blighted vision, but perfect to the lambs of the old and the new covenant who were facing the throne, though obliquely, perhaps out of deference.

I cannot say. I do not understand why I of all people should be granted anything other than time and place to breathe and care for something more.

But so, the waters of life underlie us all, even to the new and the old life, under the forebearance of lambs; and so the world and its nature – the woods of stone - bear upon us, and shield us, yes, it must be confessed, for we are so very slight, a whisper in the chorus of praise, who have eyes to see and a mind to listen to ourselves. I too have a mind, a heart that turns and, not knowing, without seeing, believes.

Catching up to Say

Ah, GodBox needs some attention to form and appearance. When I can, I will do what I can to improve it. For now various points or observations.

I want to be merely practical, but you do not give me time to waste in that manner. Instead I think realistically, of you. So I am stripped of projects and opinions. It is fairly amazing and even amusing, because we know ourselves at least enough to know to humor and relief in being present in love.

Every day offers risks but no loss that I am aware of. I lose nothing I seek to recover. I know I am growing older, drawing closer to our appointment. Thinking this way, how do I begin to discuss politics, except to say, I love. This is your instruction.

We have prayers, such as in the Office, where we thank you in the morning, we ask for understanding in the evening. We are instructed to pray always. I hope I do so in my love for you and in being open. Open, to what another person says or does; for them to be read as what is said or done in itself, read with care, both the so-called good & bad and everything in between. I hope I am fair, and myself. For I almost never shut up or stop doing things. I would be a terrible monk. Terrible. And as to reading, I can't even read Genesis at church without almost failing to get the words out. I withhold wishing that I should be steadier or what have you, because I cannot afford to doubt your gifts, not for a moment, and I would rather fail or dismay or disappoint in your name, in passion, than succeed in mine, though as you know people are so very kind, praise be.

I do love the Office. Thank you for your gift in prompting the church to make it available to all. I can hardly express what it means.

This writing (and this blog) will surely not devolve into confession or complaint, as you have provided an avenue, for which I again - not to be redundant - offer thanks. I have found a form for reconciliation speaking plainly about my struggles and praying for mercy in plain words, which I believe is pleasing to you. Certainly, you strengthen me. I take that as proof I do not fail you.

As in all things, at all moments, I stand ready for instruction or promptings. This is one way of saying that I recognize that you are in all things, in the movement from then to now, from here to there. If I were anything but alive I would have a definite opinion or position I suppose (!)

But you have placed us in a kind of boundless river, albeit one with a definite source and clear and positive end. Elsewise is the earth, and space; time and the movement of love, sleep, and love.