Saturday, July 23, 2016

the seeker

She ran. Heart pounding, she searched for the sign and clutched the paper tighter.  The sun was down, the sky still remembering its day, put on its nightdress.  Panting, eyes scanning, she paused to take in the street.  The old, weather-worn buildings pressed tightly together as if to show the street where to go.  This had to be done tonight. Relief for the pain consumed her every thought.  Turning the corner, she raised her eyes and skimmed the store fronts. There it was - the little Rx symbol. Adrenaline gave a surge of energy and she bolted for the shop. The bell jingled loudly, but she hardly noticed as she strode toward the counter at the back.  She held out the paper, crumpled in her desperate grasp. He looked up, smiling at her warmly. She stopped. His eyes were the most piercing blue she had ever seen. She had to look away - there was something unnerving about those eyes. Unnerving, and yet amazing.
"Can I get this filled right away?" she mumbled, looking down. Gently, he took the sweaty paper from her. She could see the one word as he lifted it - "Revenge" it read, coldly.
"I'm sorry," he shook his head, "I can't give you this." Fear flooded her, and anger.
"Why not?" she raged, "I deserve it! It's on the paper!"  He looked at her sadly, kindly.
"This isn't something we dispense here."  Her shoulders slumped. She had been through so much; now this. She could feel the desperate hope just slipping away and she panicked at the thought of remaining as she was. She looked up, her eyes pleading with the stranger. He had set down her paper and reached to touch her hand. There was something comforting in his manner.
"Please," she said.
"I only dispense one thing here," he spoke softly, "but it will cure all sicknesses."
She was frustrated. She must have accidentally come to one of those quack-shops. "We can cure anything," they always boasted. Everyone knew they only made things worse. People who got addicted to the quack cures lost everything in the end.
"Oh, thank you," she pulled away. She had to get out of here. Turning, she wondered if she would find the right shop before closing time.
"This is yours," he held out her paper. "I hope you find what you're looking for. You have been searching for a long time." His expression lacked pity, but she could feel the empathy in his words.

Spirit of the Living God

Swirling, whirling, soon discovering
Above the waters, Spirit hovering
Living, moving, power thrumming
Song of nature singing, humming

Voice and Word and Spirit dancing
Never aimless, nothing chancing
Intently, steadily, world creating
Full of patient, active waiting

Powerfully, and from nothing, forming
Surely dwelling, filling, swarming
Breathed by God, igniting man
Diligent, creative artisan

Breath of everything we see
Now becomes a guarantee
Sealed against Redemption's day
Hidden in these jars of clay