Saturday, February 4, 2017

The change which the writing wrought in me (and of which I did not write) was only a beginning; only to prepare me for the gods' surgery. They used my own pen to probe my wound. -C. S. Lewis

For the LORD God is both sun and shield; He will give grace and glory; No good thing will the LORD withhold from those who walk with integrity. O LORD of hosts, happy are they who put their trust in You! Psalm 84:10-12

Early in the morning I cry out to You, for in Your word is my trust. Psalm 119:147

And the gospel reading this morning was about Simeon. And he was able to praise God for His trustworthiness even though I am quite sure that the baby Jesus wrapped up in humble human love was not what he was imagining after all those years of praying for the restoration of Israel.

Wait upon the LORD and keep His way. Wait in His glorious presence.

Yesterday all day long I sang under my breath, My Glory and the Lifter of My Head.

This glory thing is not about my glory as in, Wow, aren’t I swell? but it is all about He is My Glory. Which is a big difference.

Every Sunday we sing Gloria Patri all together, lest we forget: Glory be to God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, so it is now and so it shall ever be, world without end. Alleluia. Amen.

He will give grace and glory; His presence is glory. Let me take off my shoes and bow down.

And wait.

Wait upon the LORD and keep His way.

These days I am curling off to sleep with Til We Have Faces. May I walk through my dreams with its truths. Part One is Orual’s accusation against the gods, and Part Two is the tearing away of the veil that she has worn all of these years.  And Part Three? Part Three is in the process of being revealed: Some far greater matter was upon us.

... The complaint was the answer. To have heard myself making it was to be answered. Lightly men talk of saying what they mean... When the time comes to you at which you will be forced at last to utter the speech which has lain at the centre of your soul for years... you'll not talk about joy of words. I saw well why the gods do not speak to us openly, nor let us answer. Till that word can be dug out of us, why should they hear the babble that we think we mean? How can they meet us face to face till we have faces?

So be it, LORD.

From a glorious and awful deepening of the blue sky above us... or from a deep, doubtful, quaking and surmise in my own heart, I knew that all this had been only a preparation. Some far greater matter was upon us. The voices spoke again..."He is coming," they said. –C. S. Lewis

Let me take off my shoes and bow down.