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| Vessels for Him |
Bathed with the light of the setting sun, sit these vessels at the centre of the yard. Nothing required of them and yet they adorn the place, putting a smile on someones face or sending a subtle message in a quiet simple way. Unobtrusive and yet pertinent and poignant. Fragile and yet strengthened by the firing process. Mud but yet shaped to hold water.
My musings of joy continue to lead me down the path of discovery into what allows joy to rest and become more like a gentle lapping of a wave than a churning of the sea. Am I giving up the passionate side of joy? Am I letting go of the exuberance and trying to give joy my own definition so that I can control it? For in order to define and capture the essence of something you must find words to put it in a box. What if I have no words to wax poetic about this joy which reaches the deepest part of my heart? Do I still continue to call it joy?
You can see that my grappling with mere semantics is not the point here; it is a keen desire to find a name for a feeling that is indescribable. Not because it is sublime and not of this world but because there is a hint of eternity being held in a mud vessel. How do I define that?
And then of course, I turn to other peoples words; 'beautiful sparks of God' and 'the strong motivation' which is eternal in nature. They describe not what it is but the feelings that erupt from watching His handiworks, responses that are involuntarily brought about and are enough to bow knees and weep with ...there it is again..'joy'. I can understand this. This reverence that inspires music to be composed and paint to sweep across canvas. A hope to capture the essence of joy and yet failing to even touch it.
Very quietly and gently I am bathed in this sunlight which hints of things to be and the world to come and I am still. This is deep, deep joy which looks so tranquil on the surface but holds in it a reflection of the Creator himself. I gaze at the vessels with a hint of an understanding of what joy would look like for them.
You can see that my grappling with mere semantics is not the point here; it is a keen desire to find a name for a feeling that is indescribable. Not because it is sublime and not of this world but because there is a hint of eternity being held in a mud vessel. How do I define that?
And then of course, I turn to other peoples words; 'beautiful sparks of God' and 'the strong motivation' which is eternal in nature. They describe not what it is but the feelings that erupt from watching His handiworks, responses that are involuntarily brought about and are enough to bow knees and weep with ...there it is again..'joy'. I can understand this. This reverence that inspires music to be composed and paint to sweep across canvas. A hope to capture the essence of joy and yet failing to even touch it.
Very quietly and gently I am bathed in this sunlight which hints of things to be and the world to come and I am still. This is deep, deep joy which looks so tranquil on the surface but holds in it a reflection of the Creator himself. I gaze at the vessels with a hint of an understanding of what joy would look like for them.
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