nightrunning

tonight I saw the holy ghost, shimmering on fog-filled wings.

tonight I slipped out into the dark, and beheld the full moon in all its round, round glory, and I thought of Maundy, and betrayal and weeping and healing and making peace. and what an olive grove smells like, and how songs sound soft and pure in the close night air.

there was a moment, when I was moving, new shoes on older feet and sweet Indiana breaths seeping into my lungs, that I knew the balance. the knife-edge-thin balance of all things, between triviality and gravity, and that I stand in both. what I don't know is what happens when I step off of the curb.

one of my managers at work has some sheep. his wife called him today to tell him that the neighbors' rottweilers had gotten out, and killed four, including the five day old lamb that they were bottle raising. living things are so fragile. lambs are so easy to kill, quiet and soft and white.

Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world.

O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing.

Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.

Look, he is coming with the clouds, and every eye will see him, even those who pierced him; and all the peoples of the earth will mourn because of him.

For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd; he will lead them to springs of living water. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.

The Spirit and the bride say, "Come!"