sketchbookthought

my attempt at blending the arts I cherish

and you stand in the water, with your arms crossed groaning, “hallelujah”

and sometimes, people wiser and older than you can say what’s in your heart far better than you could hope to. so, you breathe their words and sing their melodies as if they were your own. and your soul sighs in relief of the truth it has just met with. same old desire to cling to the past when coarse change rubs my tender heart, same strong push from Christ urging me not to forget his eternal faithfulness.

“The growth of all living green things wonderfully represents the process of receiving and relinquishing, gaining and losing, living and dying. The seed falls into the ground, dies as the new shoot springs up. There must be a splitting and a breaking in order for a bud to form. The bud “lets go” when the flower forms. The calyx lets go of the flower. The petals must curl up and die in order for the fruit to form. The fruit falls, splits, relinquishes the seed. The seed falls to the ground. . . . There is no ongoing spiritual life without this process of letting go. . .If we hold tightly to anything given to us, unwilling to let it go when the time comes to let it go or unwilling to allow it to be used as the Giver means it to be used, we stunt the growth of the soul.” Elisabeth Elliot, Passion and Purity

“One goes into the forest to pick food and already the thought of one fruit rather than another has grown up in one’s mind. Then, it may be, one finds a different fruit and not the fruit one thought of. One joy was expected and another is given. . . You could send your soul after the good you had expected, instead of turning it to the good you had got. You could refuse the real good; you could make the real fruit taste insipid by thinking of the other. . .it is I, I myself, who turn from the good expected to the given good. Out of my own heart I do it.” C.S. Lewis, Perelandra

“Everyone’s trying to find

ways to fix it

You know in your heart what you need

to work it out

Looking away to a violent sky

there’s a deep dark river

rising on the inside

 

And you stand in the water

with your arms crossed groaning, “hallelujah”

and the trees bow to the east

as the sun waits under the sea

fall into that mystery

or it will pull you under” Matthew Perryman Jones, “Stones From The Riverbed”

 

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This entry was posted on August 21, 2012 by in Musings and tagged , , , , , , , , .

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