Juggling

I've been reading a lot of e.e. cummings lately, and I love what he does with form in his poetry. I thought I'd have a go myself...

three balls
two hands
throw
catch
throw
catch throw
throw catch throw
catch
throw
thud
one falls
thud thud

with only one me
and so much to do
how can i keep juggling

throwing and catching
keep the balls in the air
throwing and catching
is anyone there

another ball
two hands
four balls
faster faster
thud thud thud thud

enough

won't somebody stop me

or teach me
or train me
or grow me
or show me

thie juggling act is too much for me
the circus i'm in has forgotten

thow catch thud

i can only perform when i'm free.

C.S. Burroughs

El Paradiso

When was the last time you thought about heaven? I mean really thought about it. For me it's something that I either take for granted or let slip to the back of my consciousness purely because right now it doesn't seem that relevant. Lately though, I've let my mind linger a little on the thought of all things heavenly. Not because I want to work out what it will be like, but more in the hope that the anticipation will somehow draw me out of the inertia I am tempted to settle for. Some would say that being too heavenly minded makes you of no earthly use, but surely the command to fix our eyes on things above is there for a reason? I don't mean to suggest that we should spend our time with our head in the clouds, but in fact the opposite, that perhaps by thinking a bit more about our destination, and therefore the reason for the journey... that we might somehow be more effective along the way.

I realised a couple of years back that God was allowing things to happen in my life in ways that I could not comprehend, and refused to understand, but despite my pain it was worth it in the light of eternity. The idea of God wanting us to suffer for the sake of it throws too many contradictions at the goodness of God, and I don't for one second believe that that is his intention. I think it is more due to the fact that we are safe. Through the blood of Christ we have been eternally found.

Eternally found.

By the grace of God we can never be seperated from him. As far as we are concerned, we are safe. Thus, I'm beginning to understand that this is partly why Christians often have to go through some pretty mind-blowingly awful stuff. It's about God's glory. And it's about the billions upon billions of people who have still not grasped the greatness of God's very real love for them. Lewis put it succinctly, 'pain is God's megaphone to rouse a deaf world' and he wasn't far wrong. I guess the beauty of it is that God allows us to go through crap so that we know him through it, but more than that, so that others can see the painstakingly painful process of us learning to praise through the pain. To glorify him against the odds, and to say that he is good despite the contradictions. Someone is always watching. I realised that if a season of pain for me causes one person to come one step closer to knowing Christ, then it was not all in vain. I also really believe in the power of an honest testimony... which does sometimes mean admitting our intensely inherent frailty in our misunderstanding or non-understanding of God's ways. In fact, I think often the tear-stained doubts speak louder than those rooftop cries of victory.

Now if that sounded like holy trite... it was certainly not meant to be. I guess I just realised that as far as God sees it all (I'm guessing here) he's got me for eternity.

Eternity.

So, momentary pain for me is nothing in the light of our never ending living that will start when this life stops... He promises to sustain me through the most horrific troubles, and through death itself. The more I let people see him in the midst of it, the more he pushes me to the edge. Because it is all about him. Absolutely. Completely.

I think we tend to fall into two main categories when pondering the heavenly is concerned. Those who think of it as something that will happen, to the extent where it is taken for granted and we live in permanent expectation of perfection, without really grasping the significance of the walking we have to do to get there. The other danger I think is to push it to one side entirely, as something that will happen but really isn't big enough for us to take into account, and certainly not something that 'holy' people ought to be thinking about anyway. I'm sure there are more, but those are two that I have definitely found myself falling into. It's such a fine line, and I know I all too often fall headlong over it... How do we find the balance? How can we live in a way where we are eternally bowled over by the awe inspiring grace of God that seeks the needy out of their filth infested ash heap and seats them with the princes, whilst being secure in the knowledge that being found eternally means we can live this life in an attitude of reckless servitude-giving our all till that kingdom come.

I'm still working on that one.

The other thing I've been working my way through lately is how I'll be able to worship him forever. I mean it's something we sing about all the time, but I just don't know if I can trust myself to be able to when I spend pretty much all my time here dodging the bullet when it comes to giving God the time he deserves... and that I need. I just don't know if I'll be able to. I mean yeah I can sing along happily about praising his name always, but if I think about how little I do it now, then how can I be sure.

Then I realised that I can't.

Every inch of the faith I have here has been bestowed upon me. The very privilege of being able to call him Father has cost the lifeblood of the beloved, and has been given to me freely. So why have I any reason to doubt that he won't do the same or even more in giving me all I need to praise him there? I think also that my view of God is going to be so shattered, blown apart and entirely remade when I see him that I think it'll take all of eternity and more to even be able to tell him how beautiful he is.

Thinking about music in heaven and about worship... Sometimes I wonder if I'll want to worship all the time, whether I'll get bored, and then I get that feeling you get when you stumble across a live band playing a song you love, and like an anthem rising, a battle cry... You realise that you were meant to be there to hear it. I wonder whether it'll be like that in heaven, whether we'll realise when we get there that it is the place we were always meant to be... the place we were made for.

Every night I try to see the sunset. At that key moment I run outside with the camera and try to capture it... just because I know that never in all of history has there ever been a sunset like there will be tonight. And every time it is stunning. Every time it is different. And every time I am silenced. The God of a million sunsets is the sun itself. If the sky goes all those shades of colour when an earthly sun sets... just imagine what it'll be like when the heavenly Son rises.

I guess it's about this.

To live in faith now for that moment then.

Pilgrim Lost

What if I don't fit...?

What if I get there at the end of all this, and find my life too big, too tall, too proud of itself to bow down to his.

Will I hasten to grovel, to dig in my dirt, to face the face of infinity I daily sought to avert? What if all of my theories, and all of my joys, and all of my pains are nothing but toys? If my seeking for known-ness was never to know, and for all my attempting have nothing to show… what then?

Radiating humility, unimaginable light, surely compel me towards fight, not flight. What if they don’t? How could I possible conceive a life inside eternity, yet daily choose to die for so much less. All my plethora of excuses can’t conceal this self made mess.

If the gap is too small, what will I miss… the meeting of his humanity with divinity’s kiss. Yet even this is so far from the worst.

If in all of my dreaming I still see myself.

Brink

on the edge
a glimpse almost seen
will then be lost in the now of the inbetween

infinity tempts
simplicity mocks
all the playing with fire could not prepare
what price of knowing the cost

born to be free
dying to live
that touch of invincible
estranged on the brink

this dream of freefalling falling falling
this dream of freefalling
the last burning dream of the lost

C. S. Burroughs

Echoes

Heart keeps beating
Love gets lost
Hope still breathing
Tears unstopped
Peace is screaming
Joy won't speak
Hope still breathing
Faith is weak
Mind over matter
Can't understand
Hope still breathing
Take my hand.

C. S. Burroughs

But...

So its really easy to be misunderstood...


The way that one heart beats is so different to another. Why should we expect to be understood? Why the craving to be known so completely, why the yearning to be at one with another, and to have nothing to explain. And why is it that the times you try and rebuild those burnt out bridges they crumble beneath your approaching footsteps?

I don't know. And I wish I could say that I didn't care, but...