On the ridge

The Lord is king, he is robed in majesty; the Lord is robed, he is girded with strength. … More majestic than the thunders of mighty waters, more majestic than the waves^[a] of the sea, majestic on high is the Lord! (Psalm 93:1, 4)

 An arboretum path near my home leads up a ridge, through a dense wood of oaks and maples, before opening into an expansive meadow sprinkled with wildflowers.

I love climbing the ridge and breaking into the sunlight surrounded by the profusion of yellow and white, gold and green where birds swoop for seeds and butterflies sample the sweet flora.

Standing there, arms spread wide, open to the sky, I praise God for what I see and feel and know in that moment. The Lord is king, and there is no other. God reigns, ever-ordering and restoring a world of wonder, grace and beauty amid the chaotic mess we humans tend to make of it.

It is a good walk, especially when the cacophony of voices in the news—and the restless voices inside my head—fracture my consciousness with the incessant discord of the world.

Somedays, it seems everything is coming apart, flaying off in disparate directions. And then, there is the reality that hurts happen and our hearts sometimes break. But on the ridge, I know what the Holy One wants us all to know.

Always good to know … when the days are difficult, the nights are long and tomorrow … so unknown.

 David L. Miller

Coming home

 Jesus answered him, ‘Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them. (John 14:23)

Years ago, I ceased to call any place home. This, in part, is because my family made many moves that took us to unexpected places.

Amid our moves, home became … and is … not a place but a person, a relationship of love and care in which Dixie and I look at each other and say: You are my home.

It is something like this that Jesus extends to our needy hearts, only more and better. He lived in loving union—heart-to heart—with the all-loving One he called the Father.

And we who know him, who have tasted the love he is, are drawn into the unceasing flow of love between Jesus and the Father. We are enveloped inside their relationship, sharing in their union, just as our children and grandchildren share in the love flowing between Dixie and me.

As human souls, our home is not a place but this flow in which we are bathed in the Love who smiles on our existence, who forgives and showers mercy on our messy lives and breathes the Spirit of love into our hearts.

Just so, you wake me again, Holy One, that … once more … I may pray to you, hoping only to rest in my heart’s true home. Grant me your peace.

David L. Miller