Notes of Faith April 16, 2023
Your Goodness and Love
Psalm 23 has brought comfort to believers since it was first written, read, and sung. In The Book of Common Courage, Psalm 23 is divided line by line and shared with photography, poems, blessings, writings, and prayers for your encouragement. Enjoy this excerpt!
Through the heartfelt mercies of our God, God’s Sunrise will break in upon us, shining on those in the darkness, those sitting in the shadow of death, then showing us the way, one foot at a time, down the path of peace.
— Luke 1:78-79 MSG
O God, who makes the sun to rise,
Open our eyes to Your goodness and love
stretching across the skies,
for we have been hounded
by hatred and lies,
but Your beauty
follows us
further
still.
Amen.
We can so easily become
that which has harmed us.
We pour thick concrete
around the softness of our souls
to protect ourselves
from more pain.
Poetry can penetrate
our layers of self-protection.
Beauty can call us
into resurrection.
Like words on the edge
of a cliff into death,
Goodness and Love can pull
us back from the ledge.
A forest can speak hope
in the scent of pine.
A wave can roll grace
to mist our parched pain.
A peony can bloom faith
with ballet skirts
of intricate praise.
Goodness and Love
always do seek
us in the layers,
lodged under hard sheets
of concrete, too thick
to breathe, too precious
to leave. They chase us
all our days and crack
open our shields,
calling us back
home to the beauty
of being healed.
You are the flower of God’s love.
Right now snow covers the soil
on the ridge where red rocks
jut from the foothills, where
I have walked and wept
and wondered at the way
winter is harsh
and spring is muddy.
The ground is barren now,
but in just months she’ll sprout.
Come summer, this soil will burst with green.
The trail will put on her lavender scarf.
The wind will ruffle through
each bloom.
May today be the day you realize
that if God dreamed wildflowers
into existence from the dirt,
which rise
season after season from snow-covered soil, through mud and muck
and storms, then
your blossoms can return from
winter too.
And if most wildflowers stretch
as rainbows on remote hillsides,
far from trails with human eyes,
your beauty can also be stunning
even if unseen by others’ eyes.
Honor the hard ground
where seeds hide under snow.
No farm lives in perpetual
harvest.
No wildflower blooms all year.
Hallow your hidden work,
how you push through the dirt
year after year, day after day,
choosing kindness over criticism,
forgiveness over fury,
and trust in the truth
that beauty will
eventually
bloom.
You are a perennial.
Your flowers always return.
There is beauty
both in your blooming
and your becoming.
Be tender
toward the time
between both.
If God imagined that small,
brown seeds
far beneath thick, white snow
could one day curl into damp,
dark dirt
and spring into whorls of green
with strong, maroon stalks
crowned
with bell after lavender bell,
then he will curl you in his care,
he will spring your life into
the air,
he will build bells from your
small buds,
he will delight in watching who
you will become,
for you are the flower of
God’s love.
Love is patient.
Love is kind.
Love is… mine.
Excerpted from The Book of Common Courage by K.J. Ramsey, copyright Katie Jo Ramsey.
Poets are given a different brain. Their thoughts are deep and brilliant and their gift of words often provoking images and heart-rending emotions. I pray you meditate on the Word of God today, on His love and blessings toward you, His gift of mercy and grace, hope and eternal life . . . May today’s note be a joy-filled challenge to dig deep and enjoy the presence of God!
Pastor Dale