A sunset on my soul -

There was a sunset tonight, and it seemed to set upon my soul. As I walked down to the end of the road, I stared at the orange sky exploding around the shafts and puffs and streaks of clouds, that were colored with hues I couldn't name.

Today ... was one of those days again. It just was. And all I wanted was Him.

When I walked down that road, I was trying not to think, but all I could hear in my head was - "I am not small.". God is not small. I am small. He is not. He painted that sky and arranged those clouds, and did not do it just for me, because He is not all about me. He is all about the wonder and awe and mightiness and holiness of Himself, and it is that that makes Him not small.

There is a song that comes to mind when I see God's amazingness in creation, and anywhere else, really. It's written by Chris Rice, based upon Psalm 119. I'm going to write the lyrics in, and interrupt every once in a while. Even though mine is not a "purple sky", it still fits. :)

"A purple sky to close the day, I wade the surf where dolphins play,

the taste of salt, the dance of waves, and my soul wells up with hallelujahs.

A lightning flash, my pounding heart, a breaching whale, a shooting star,

give testimony that You are, and my soul wells up with hallelujahs.

Oh praise Him all His mighty works, there is no language where You can't be heard,

Your song goes out to all the earth - Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah!

O cratered moon and sparrows wings, o thunder's boom and Saturn's rings,

unveil our Father as you sing, and my soul wells up with hallelujahs!"

I'm stopping for a bit, because here something else is written in my pictures -

I'm not really sure what's written in them yet, but it's not that next verse. These next eight pictures are different. They were taken around the fence that is covered in vines and rust and held together with chains and locks. If it doesn't make sense, just stay with me, I'll be thinking it through as I go.

I must admit, when I took these, hallelujahs were not welling up in me. I was not praising God in the least bit, save for the sunset and for not leaving me alone. And the hallelujahs still haven't hit yet, these pictures just can't hit that -

These fence and locks -

They reach for the sky, prickly, tangled, twisted, sharp, un-softened.
They draw me to touch and feel and grasp ... and look.
They care not for sun or wind or rain, they hold still and tight for only the reason to keep the barrier, to stay solid, to not let go ...
They are not moved, they are not unlocked, they do not give in.
Though there be a tear between the two gates, the chains hold them together, like glue, only offering room for one desperate person or a high climbing child, to enter the pasture field beyond, that is filled with groves of half-producing orange trees and dead limbs.

They have seen many a glory, but are unmoved by them. They melt not at the sound of the Creator's voice. They feel not the touch of His hand in the wind. They love not His name.

They do not yield, they do not change, they do not come undone.

They unlock only to the touch of the key inside, to the turning of the center, to the giving way of the screeching bolts, to the scraping free of the rust, to the releasing of the hold. They give to the knowledge that the key sets them free from their hold....like the Master of our hearts gives us the key to the holy Spirit and His Word, and to His care.
Yielding to God ... not only unlocking the bolt, but setting free the lock from its hold, to be what I could not, cannot, shall not be, but becoming that new lock in Him and Him alone.

"The pulse of life within my wrist, a fallen snow, a rising mist,

there is no higher praise than this,
and my soul wells up,
O my soul wells up,
Yes my soul wells up with hallelujahs!

Oh praise Him all His mighty works, there is no language where you can't be heard,
Your song goes out to all the earth, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah!
O hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah!
My heart may not always feel like singing these words, but it does know that to stop singing them will cause me to become more and more like that fence. Cold, hard, unmoved. I don't want to be that. I want my rust scraped out from my inner locks. I want the Word of the Lord like the sun upon the softening steel. I want the center of me to be solid in the center of His soul, and the wholeness of His life in me. I want to be more and more like Christ.

I just don't usually like all the pain that comes with it.

Clinging to Christ,
~ Jean Marie

 ~ Isaiah 51: 12-16 (NKJV) ~" ¹²I, even I, am He that comforteth you. Who art thou that thou shouldest be afraid of a man that shall die, and of the son of man who shall be made as grass,

¹³and forgettest the LORD thy Maker, who hath stretched forth the heavens, and laid the foundations of the earth, and hast feared continually every day because of the fury of the oppressor, as if he were ready to destroy? And where is the fury of the oppressor?

¹⁴The captive exile hasteneth that he may be loosed, that he should not die in the pit, nor that his bread should fail.

¹⁵But I am the LORD thy God, who divided the sea whose waves roared; The LORD of hosts is His name.

¹⁶And I have put My words in thy mouth and I have covered thee in the shadow of Mine hand, that I may plant the heavens and lay the foundations of the earth, and say unto Zion, `Thou art My people.'"