“But there is nothing covered, that will not be revealed; neither hid, that will not be known.” (Luke 12:2)
“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto treasure hid in a field; the which when a man has found, he hides and for joy thereof goes and sells all that he has, and buys that field.” (Matthew 13:44) Things Are Not As They Seem What is this thing I am feeling? This dissonance crashing in slow This Holy unsettled unknown Beckoning surrender and growth What is this thing I am feeling? This metaphor having no end This spirit cleansing chaos The truth with no defense What is this thing I am feeling? What is up is all coming down The pieces of the sky I made All scattered on the ground What is this thing I am feeling? I am questioning all I see Closing my eyes to find myself Not sure of who is really me What is this thing I am feeling? Nowhere seems to be secure Everything I thought I knew Far away, reticent, so unsure What is this thing I am feeling? This uncomfortable sobering place I get down on my knees Hoping to glimpse Jesus’ face What is this thing I am feeling? Like a waking tangled dream I open my mouth to speak Revealing an internal scream What is this thing I am feeling? Like coming fully alive His voice stirs within me From my lips an ethereal cry “All that you are feeling It’s Spirit touching flesh It’s Light touching darkness It’s Life touching death You, my child, are Holy Made for something more All this soul unrest you feel It’s but the first of many doors What is seen is not the truth It’s all that’s hidden underneath All this tumult, chaos, despair Vanquished in beautiful peace Hold to what is Holy Hold to what is right and true You are not alone in this battle Many others feel just as you The time is growing shorter The enemy will take his stand I will uphold and sustain you For I am the great “I AM.” I am the Lord, there is none else The Beginning and the End I am the First and the Last I will conquer and defend The days will get darker yet My plan must be fulfilled All these things must come to pass For my glory and my will So cleave to me my daughter Cleave to me my son Stay under my sheltering wings Till all these things be done…” Written by Anne Marie Hawke February 2021 To subscribe to my blog or to find out more about my writing, please visit my website at hawkewriter.com
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“Having therefore, brethren, boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way, which he has consecrated for us, through the veil, that is to say, his flesh; and having an high priest over the house of God; let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience, and our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold fast the profession of our faith without wavering; (for he is faithful that promised;) and let us consider one another to provoke unto love and to good works…” (Hebrews 10:19-24)
I have a journal I write in nearly every day: poetry, prayers, ponderances. On one page in my new journal for this year, I had torn out a corner of one of the pages to write some important piece of information. When I came to that page (because who tears a piece of their journal paper from the beginning of the journal? :) the following flowed out around the torn bit: Like a tear in this paper fear had left its mark, underlying anger creeping in the dark—anger at what could have been, at what never was, at what was taken, ripped away much like the tear above. Anger at my insidious doubt, anger at the fears still within, anger at death stealing life, anger at all I didn’t win. Anger at lies believed, at the deception of the tongue, at words with no actions, at bad choices, at things I’ve done. Like a tear in this paper suddenly they were removed; the anger, fear, pain, taken—buried in the tomb. Oftentimes tearing is both a loss and a gain, it’s the joy that comes from knowing there is beauty birthed in pain. The paper may have a hole, a place that seems like loss, but what if the paper is more because of what it cost? Yes I may not be able to write there, no ink will fill the space, but perhaps the tear says more, perhaps it speaks of grace. There is grace in what was taken, grace in what remains. The rough edges of the tear mark what mere words cannot contain. Look into the gaping hole and see it’s actually quite full, of the many things that love and grace produce and pull. Mountains of guilt and shame, rivers of sorrow deep, pulled away with one swift tear, given to mercies keep. So, don’t see this page as broken, see it as a unique whole, much as a torn person is still a uniquely beautiful soul. The tears make us stronger, things taken make room for more; where there is a window one can surely make a door. The next time you make a tear in a paper or a life, know that grace is present like the precious blood of Christ… Written by Anne Marie Hawke February 2021 To subscribe to my blog or to find out more about my writing, please visit my website at hawkewriter.com. If you like what you have read, please share it! |
qUIET IN CHAOSQuiet in Chaos is a blog about nothing, everything, and all things inbetween…it’s a space, an ellipsis, a deep pause. Life can be chaotic, and often needs more moments of quiet…So join me as I share and give through the written word, the place I find my Quiet in Chaos… Archives
February 2022
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