Thursday, July 24, 2015

Thursday, July 24, 2015

Psalm 23:1-3a

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. 
   He makes me lie down in green pastures;
he leads me beside still waters; 
   he restores my soul.

Restoration

Maybe it is the buttercream light of a summer evening, glow of heaven, smooth and rich, spread deep and soft across trees and well-trimmed yards. Maybe it is the orange marmalade streaking the western sky as the passionate red ball of earth’s sun falls again beneath the horizon to warm other hearts.

Or maybe it is something less celestial, like a few words on a page or the sound of a voice at which the heart springs to flight, a feathered bird, reaching heights only hearts of hope can know.

Whatever stirs this bird to flight I know its name and know, too, there is no life without it. Hope is its name, and it adjusts the eyes of the heart for the long view, looking down the road toward union with the Love it must crave for it was made by and for Love and craves the fullness of this Love in every love known.

And who knows why it takes flight at words or in the creamy glow of fading light? It just does, withholding its mystery from the minds of mere mortals.

Sometimes it seems to die when union seems impossible, only to take flight again and restore the heart, filling it with the knowledge necessary for life.

And that is this: Love remains and seeks us, leading us to places (still waters or golden evenings maybe) that stir hope’s feathered bird to take flight and lift us above the ditch of doubt so that we taste and know sweet union with the Love we seek.

Hope tastes what it wants and needs, seeking the fullness the heart demands. That’s what we are, Children of Love seeking union with the Love who seeks us.

For this, we hope. Always.

Pr. David L. Miller