There is a great chasm,
And sacred it be,
That separates kin and
friendship, from knowledge of Thee.
For it is by Your Spirit
Translating me near,
And no one, save You
Dwells with me there.
The Fortress of Psalter,
The Rock of the Age,
The Foundation of all Good-
And Stripper of assuage.
I realized through tears,
When I'd nothing dust left,
That heaven is better -
So broken, bereft
"Twas there in the silence,
Your Spirit did swell;
And filled with new glories
Of Presence and well -
"This world is a fetter,
All vanity be."
When resting by Spirit,
Past chasm, I'm free.
-J.N. Early July, Early Morn, Back Patio, Nampa, Id.
Funny word, chasm- so close to chiasm - that's a favorite of mine. In my wit, I wanted to whip out a chiasm on chasm, but maybe the joy of chasm is best told through paradox.
And isn't all of life a paradox? In that very paradox is the widening of the chasm - it screams the truth, that it does, in fact, exist. Mulling in the paradox you find the chasm ever growing wider.
The death you die, dyes the life you live.
Joy holds you, but don't hold joy.
Just kindercare attempts at understanding a truth that has been wiggling around my noggin. The idea of death and resurrection - what does that look like? We die to ourselves, to live in Him. We do this a thousand times a day, and we don't do this a thousand times a day. To the extent by His grace towards obedience we die, we see glimmers of glory in letting go and actually tasting the goodness of all this vanity the temporal has to offer- in obedience it goes through Him first. - letting Joy hold us vs. trying to hold the joy.
But then the moments pass, the thoughts in my grown girl's head discussed and she is off to work, my grandone goes home and in the wake of ringing of laughter - a silent din, the ministrations of my husband is shuffled into the necessary schedule for subsistence.
It passes - everything passes; yet He, only He remains.
Therein is the great chasm that grows bigger and bigger as we enjoy life more and more. He holds on to us, we hold onto nothing, we are dust, and anything we try to hold is dust, too.
That premonition of Joy that reminds of a grain of Truth, that percolates into a pebbles of HIS promises, is cemented as our Rock of Salvation and our Refuge- that is the only, real, lasting, sustainable thing. But the sustenance in from Him and His will and Word, He alone is solid - everlasting, unwithered. We act only as we are acted upon. Everything, a passing flutter, just a little shadow that points to Jesus, our Joy, as Paul would intimate to those at Philipi..
So
And sacred it be,
That separates kin and
friendship, from knowledge of Thee.
For it is by Your Spirit
Translating me near,
And no one, save You
Dwells with me there.
The Fortress of Psalter,
The Rock of the Age,
The Foundation of all Good-
And Stripper of assuage.
I realized through tears,
When I'd nothing dust left,
That heaven is better -
So broken, bereft
"Twas there in the silence,
Your Spirit did swell;
And filled with new glories
Of Presence and well -
"This world is a fetter,
All vanity be."
When resting by Spirit,
Past chasm, I'm free.
-J.N. Early July, Early Morn, Back Patio, Nampa, Id.
Funny word, chasm- so close to chiasm - that's a favorite of mine. In my wit, I wanted to whip out a chiasm on chasm, but maybe the joy of chasm is best told through paradox.
And isn't all of life a paradox? In that very paradox is the widening of the chasm - it screams the truth, that it does, in fact, exist. Mulling in the paradox you find the chasm ever growing wider.
The death you die, dyes the life you live.
Joy holds you, but don't hold joy.
Just kindercare attempts at understanding a truth that has been wiggling around my noggin. The idea of death and resurrection - what does that look like? We die to ourselves, to live in Him. We do this a thousand times a day, and we don't do this a thousand times a day. To the extent by His grace towards obedience we die, we see glimmers of glory in letting go and actually tasting the goodness of all this vanity the temporal has to offer- in obedience it goes through Him first. - letting Joy hold us vs. trying to hold the joy.
But then the moments pass, the thoughts in my grown girl's head discussed and she is off to work, my grandone goes home and in the wake of ringing of laughter - a silent din, the ministrations of my husband is shuffled into the necessary schedule for subsistence.
It passes - everything passes; yet He, only He remains.
Therein is the great chasm that grows bigger and bigger as we enjoy life more and more. He holds on to us, we hold onto nothing, we are dust, and anything we try to hold is dust, too.
That premonition of Joy that reminds of a grain of Truth, that percolates into a pebbles of HIS promises, is cemented as our Rock of Salvation and our Refuge- that is the only, real, lasting, sustainable thing. But the sustenance in from Him and His will and Word, He alone is solid - everlasting, unwithered. We act only as we are acted upon. Everything, a passing flutter, just a little shadow that points to Jesus, our Joy, as Paul would intimate to those at Philipi..
So
