thoughts | Jesus, Light of the World

van gogh

Stream winds so pure and clear
lovely path throughout the year

Where from does this rivulet meander?
And how does it avoid harsh arid slander?

I beg to know this stream of life
Endless source to ease my strife

As a tear you shall always go
Upon the mountain’s cheek so slow

You are not of this world lovely stream
Not from yarn, legend, or even a dream

You are a divine droplet making its way
Winding downward without fear nor sway

Water replenishes me in graceful rebirth
With purposeful joy o’er saddened earth

For continuous and ready are your reserves
Gathering salt of which the soil preserves

This salt shalt ne’er have flavor lost
Just as endless stream flows from redeemed one’s cost

Preserve and replenish, these two shalt meet
The endless stream, savory sweet

Paul Cezanne

But mine eyes are unto thee, O God the Lord: in thee is my trust; leave not my soul destitute.
Psalm 141:8

Upon what thing beautiful shall my gaze alight? Something in the shallow, alluring and beckoning, places welcomed by bidding hands to guide my path? Where soon after a joyous arrival there is acute disappointment and an unsatisfied feeling of despair and ugliness wrought from all things faded. I thought once the glimmer seen in the lonely moon in whose light was sufficient to shine upon a path I walked to beautiful joy only to find a light-hearted fool with a condescending laugh, making merriment at my poor expense. From what source does true beauty arise and please both the eye and the heart?

Yet as time’s very nature and true essence feeds my confidence that if one bad moment is endured, soon a good one shall follow. I found this untrue. For following the shallow host I first approached, next was a steep slope of sand and eroded granite so fascinating from afar but in reality the characteristic of a rude and tawdry fellow. He begs rest from weariness and I fruitlessly with unforeseen gullibility climb to reach him only to slip farther away from his outreaching hand – wishing my company yet always a bit out of reach. I seek beauty to fill emptiness and I wonder if I might look deep into smooth onyx and find my reflection. Alas not for self-absorption is narrow, naive, and egotistic. I have seen the smirk of falsehood on the face of an invitation to self-gratification. Soon light turns to dark and beauty wrinkles, fades. Beauty is only skin deep, he lies. I know, only if eyes seek beauty for the sake of self-satisfaction.

Let my eyes fall upon the Lord. Turn to and return to Him. Gaze and gaze again for He always returns a welcome hand. He shows me that beauty is not the shine of polished stone or the glimmer of the moonlight upon the still waters, but is the cry of your longing soul met with compassion. It is seeing your vulnerable heart through a veil trying to conceal pain, but unable to, to the discerning eye. Beautiful is the soul that first shines and then urges the face to light up. The seemingly attractive surface is really a flame lit from the depths of the heart where only God has been to dust off things of old and reorganize things forgotten and unremembered. I have seen those things and cast those hurtful and malicious fragments of the past that attempt to carve me from the inside out, upon the shoulders of my unweary and willing Host.

The Spirit gives me eyes to see your truth and gives me motivation to ask if I should petition to God your needs over my own. How lovely your heart. I see you for what is inside where depth beyond shadows holds treasures of purity and unveiled light that is the beginning of time and the seed sown of God. Grow seed. Sprout and come to light and show life. Show that a torn veil reveals the inner room of your heart. Do not worry or fear, I am there and I will hold you forever.