Mud, Stars and Glimpses of Glory

I have quite a few revelatory experiences recently. It's been a strange time. Maniacally busy with work, committee, friends, home and family; I have found myself writing poems and songs to try and evacuate my mind.

The following was written in response to a song written by my friend Amy:

For those children who do not sleep for fear, 

For those girls, seeing pain beyond their years

For those men, polluting what they fear

For the lives, stolen at night.

Those who sit in wait for the morning light. 

There is a voice, whispered

A song, that lingers

Soaring through the stars

Crying for the light

For the boys, not knowing their Dad

For the child, with mouth open wide

For the scars that cannot fade

For the victims who cannot speak out

For the rage, that chills deep within

There is a voice, whispered

A song, that lingers

Soaring on eagle's wings

Longing for the light

----------------------------

The idea of light and glimpses of glory have been prevalent recently. Yesterday in chapel it dawned on me that humanity is a glimpse of glory. God's glory is found in each of us, and yet so often I think of the glory of God when looking at the majesty of the sea and the beauty of the night sky. During the chapel service I wrote the following;

The glory of God is in the fragility of humanity - how strange. The Father looks down on each of us and says,

'You. In you, is my glory'

'But I'm a sinner, broken, ugly, rejected.'

'I know', he replied

'Just look at my Son, scarred, rejected, alone, in agony - 

King of Glory. In My image he is made, you were created in the image of the same.

-----------------------------

I was thinking about the glory of God when I attended a meeting to arrange my vacation placement that evening. I'm pretty sure I saw the Glory of God in the two ladies I met, who worked in the chaplaincy service at Watford General Mental Health ward. There was something very beautiful about the work they were doing and the encouragement they gave me, in being able to be a little part of that work as part of my degree. They recommended a book called 'Mud and Stars' and there seemed to be a strange juxtaposition between the dirt, darkness and ugliness of mud and the beautiful shining light of stars. The ugliness of mental illness and the pain it causes, the beauty and creativity it can create.

This has been a bit of a mish-mash of writings and I'm going to leave you with another poem I jotted when in yesterday's chapel service after we had been talking about how we cannot see anything but a glimpse of God's glory because it is so beautiful, so wonderful and so terrifying that nothing can ever stay the same.

This is Glory

If only a Glimpse

This is Glory

In the power of a King

And the suffering of a Servant

This is Glory

In the faith of sinners

In the cries of slaves

Who bow to you.

This is a glimpse

Of heavenly praise

Glory not self-seeking, but

Glory seen in love divine.