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A God Desperate To Be Loved

Page 8

by Fr. Ed Graves


  “God called out to him from the bush...”

  Exodus 3: 4

  EVERY TREE IS A BURNING BUSH

  Every tree

  is a burning bush,

  every star

  a revelation

  of it’s Creator,

  every day

  a window

  to a fresh,

  clean path--

  to new dreams,

  new possibilities,

  new horizons--

  new birth.

  Oh, the new

  will not replace

  the old;

  nor does it lose it.

  No!

  The new continues

  what the old held best

  and was itself

  once new and fresh;

  nor do the seeds

  of tomorrow’s glory

  reside in the looming

  cathedrals of yesterday,

  but in bare Nazareths

  where simple spirits live;

  where life is not a memorial

  but a passion,

  not a memory to re-imagine

  but lived,

  not a beautiful past,

  a childhood lost--

  but the vibrant seed

  of yesterday

  ever freshly budding

  from the perennial

  vitality

  of its

  core.

  “Iam the bread of life[...].

  Before Abraham came to be, I Am.”

  John 6: 35; 8: 58

  “We know that all things work together for good

  for those who love God.”

  Romans 8: 28

  SO BE IT!

  Lord, if my life with you

  is the purpose of my birth,

  the testament of my death--

  so be it!

  If all my glooms dissipate

  at your smile

  now or later--

  so be it!

  If every line I have written,

  every canvas painted

  decay in a cobwebbed attic--

  so be it!

  If all my loves found and lost,

  if all our embraces, my God,

  be patters on a wintered window

  of yesteryear, O my love--

  so be it!

  If, when all is said and done

  one thing alone glows: your love

  on a dark cross that cries,

  “I love you!”

  And I have said,

  “I love you, too!”--

  so be it!

  If all the times I’ve spent

  listening to singers,

  savored rhythms of guitars

  was, all of it, time wasted--

  so be it!

  If all the painting

  you chose to create through me

  be scrap, yet you chose to live in me--

  so be it!

  Yes,

  if I have wasted countless hours

  in tears and anguish,

  squandered

  fierce slashes of your brush--

  so be it!

  So if--

  as Picasso had Paris,

  and Michelangelo Florence--

  here is my plot for creation,

  the blaze their genius started

  to dimly flicker

  with the brightness of your fire--

  So be it!

  To know you, love you, serve you

  (sister taught us this in religion class,

  ‘though it takes a lifetime to grasp!) ;

  is my only great accomplishment--

  so be it!

  O noisy highway out my window,

  swiftly swizzle all you must:

  My love and I know

  love’s rich silence.

  Oh, yes, yes,

  Oh, this, this is enough

  for my Love and me, so--

  so be it!

  “Bark, bark!”

  “Shut up, dog!

  No, keep barking:

  it’s our love you’re singing.

  So, in every yard and park

  let this our love keep ringing

  ‘till evening takes his final bow,

  and whispers ‘bye!’

  and all is loss

  but I and Thou,

  Oh, yes, yes, my Lord--

  so be it!

  “But by the grace of God I am what I am.”

  1 Corinthians 15: 10

  I HAVE TAKEN LIFE ON MY OWN TERMS

  I sit back in my easy chair,

  looking out my picture window

  as I have so many times before,

  watching sunrise spangle trees and grass.

  My country cottage is quiet

  and I could not be more content

  than savoring it this morning,

  raising a steaming cup of Starbucks.

  “Yes! It was all worth it!

  “I see meaning lighting each day.”

  This is my answer to life.

  Yes, this: I have taken life on my own terms.

  All, my Lord, you let life bring--

  both rich and vapid happenings,

  uncountable destructions--

  you painted me,

  rubbed away my least allusions

  to greatness, marriage, fame;

  you pushed my parts about

  until today, at peace with myself,

  and most importantly, at peace with you,

  I exclaim, Yes! This is the dazzling

  chalice I raise to you:

  a heart of grateful praise.

  O Lord, how wonderful all becomes

  to one who serves you alone

  and takes life on their own terms.

  The painting of me you first began

  you have spent my lifetime shaping

  until today. I am your passion’s prize.

  When I was just a boy,

  an inconspicuous canvas in a corner

  in Florida, you chose me--

  how long ago it seems--

  for yourself alone.

  “I am ready to give up

  everything for Jesus!”I said,

  and you took me at my word.

  Now, as I stand to refill my cup,

  and return to my picture window,

  I see my life outside shining,

  all my love torn hours rising,

  breaking into a crescendo of praise,

  and I exclaim. “Thank you, God--

  I’ve taken life on my own terms!

  But this is not my achievement,

  but your gift: you painted me as you will,

  and I, your canvas,

  pliant to your docile brush,

  stood still and said “Yes, Lord!

  Do with me as you will!”

  The purpose of my life is

  far beyond my sight.

  Every work of yours like me

  must find its worth in turning dust,

  must see its beauty in the vision

  of your passionate purpose.

  This is the purpose that I chose

  in choosing life on my own terms.

  Oh, all supposed greatness: an illusion.

  Every part of canvases you paint

  you value as much as any other.

  On
ly you, great Cezanne,

  see your goal.

  “There will come a day,”

  Cezanne prophesied, “when a carrot,

  freshly seen,will spur a revolution....

  I will astonish Paris with an apple!”

  “Some people look at my painting,”

  Picasso said, “and they see

  an apple a minor addition--

  but the apple is the message;

  all other parts embellishments.”

  Oh, the unreflective cannot see:

  They cannot grasp, Lord, what you said --

  which Picasso echoed--

  “The greatest is the least.”

  Michelangelo or a little boy--

  who is the greater artist? To whom?

  More greatness lies in the love

  of man and woman or close friends

  than in the “wonders of the world.”

  Aix and Arles toppled Paris, then the world;

  just as did Bethlehem, Jerusalem--

  and Arkansas is as great to God.

  I have lived life on my own terms...

  for you, my Lord; and I have

  fled pride’s rank delusion--

  and when crowds stream past my bier,

  when my last loved ones have passed by,

  when the door finally shuts its last

  and I hide from sun and moon,

  I shall at last find peace and say,

  “Yes, life is good. At least, my Lord,

  for those you choose, whose life is ‘Yes!’

  to you and take life on their own terms.

  “Oh,how deep are the riches and wisdom of God!How [...] unsearchable his ways!”

  Romans 11:32-33

  WHAT IS SO BAD ABOUT OLD AGE?

  What is so bad about old age?

  Being part of God’s wise plan,

  it must be good, part of being myself.

  “Of course it’s good, my deluded son,

  so why not celebrate what is? Stop

  clinging to the flimsy life-raft

  of what was or might have been.

  I told Moses I am always Today,

  so why desire to be another way?

  We admire a beautiful girl but what

  is her beauty but an adjective

  for a season to search for a mate,

  to share God’s call to birth--

  inbred in his plan--yet another

  in God’s own image?

  This dignity she shares with God--

  what awesome responsibility!

  And, if she turns too much to see

  her beauty reflected in a mirror,

  how wasteful this is of a gift so pure

  made to light the path to godliness.

  So, pretty girl, or whoever you are

  who share part of God’s magnificence--

  wave that obnoxious gnat away.

  Seek to make godly your fleeting day,

  for you shall one day see your youth

  but old age fodder for eternal fruit.

  “[...] my days were shaped before one came to be.”

  Psalm 139:16

  MY LIFE

  In one flash of awareness my life

  appears--dazzling from birth,

  and its light has led me here

  to this quiet, hallowed grove

  where my world finds all

  my meaning, purpose--and wonder.

  Yes, Lord, for you who made me

  for your pleasure have led me

  here and nowhere else, not

  to a dreamed-of Paris hallowed

  by decayed poets and painters,

  nor to the hallowed Holy Land

  where you raised up kings

  and prophets and you yourself took flesh.

  No! This is where you made me live,

  this is my holy land, my Paris,

  the birthplace of my poems

  and paintings where you, my God,

  still walk in the cool of the evening--

  from my Bethlehem to my Calvary,

  from Birmingham to Memphis--

  and here unfold my mystery, here

  where a brilliance illumines all

  my foibles and my furies,

  all my loves and all my losses,

  make crystal clear my dreams

  and you alone chose to imprint,

  as by your master painter’s brush,

  on all my labyrinthine ways

  your deft and graceful touch;

  yes, to every bright or dismal day

  that lead me nearer my personal heaven.

  But this awareness does not come

  merely in images--but somehow as

  source and soul of all my yearnings

  unveiled to my wondering spirit

  as to a blushing bride, and coalesces

  into the loving awareness

  that all I have ever done

  has been the best for me--

  for you, my God, crafted all

  as part of a complex painting--

  and made me a fresh creation

  of your ever avid passion.

  You, great painter, now step back

  from your easel to inspect your work,

  survey all its sunlit facets

  as voices trail away outside,

  and glory prepares to claim it’s prize

  in the blissbright halls of heaven.

  “You formed my inmost being;

  you knit me in my mother’s womb.”

  Psalm 139: 13

  “...the least act of pure love is of more value...than

  all others works together [...] I shall be love.”

  St. Therese of Lisieux

  I THINK I SHALL HAVE LIVED WELL

  I think I shall have lived well

  if I have shown you your

  timelessness, and your withering life

  joy’s permanence;

  if I have made a sparrow chirp

  for you the glory-song of lovers

  rising sun-bright

  from a dying dream;

  if I have shown fruition to

  loins that conceive in pain,

  for whom deception’s spiders

  weave their rank villainy;

  if I have unclad the delusions

  of whores and hucksters

  for whom all ravaged virgins

  weep in the dark;

  if I have dissipated night

  that shades love’s precarious flight--

  if I have done this,

  then

  I think I shall have lived well.

  If I, seeing you sweat and groan

  for a brief respite from

  beatings from a world’s

  heart of stone,

  and tell you that

  what you seek

  lies in no other land

  than in a pauper’s

  praying hand;

  if I have shown you, perhaps,

  that in the marrow

  of your peace

  you can alone

  unearth the street

  that leads

  through singing fields of rest

  to the mansion of

  love’s opulence;

  if I, perchance,

  have shown you this,

  I surely shall not

  have lived amiss.

  No, and if I have led you
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  to where you can find

  the switch that makes death

  turn sunrise;

  or show you

  a pure sky of stars

  that chant love’s ecstasy--

  then I think I shall have lived well;

  if I, in the moment spirit quells

  all turbulence,

  helped you see peace

  brightly stand

  and hand you God’s

  eternal wedding band.

  Oh, yes, then

  I think that I

  shall have lived well.

  “Listen, my daughter, and understand; listen carefully.

  Forget your people and your father’s house, that the

  king might desire your beauty

  Song of Songs 45:11-12

  A POSTSCRIPT-MY ART AND POETRY

  I am very much a modern artist and poet: I draw and write of reality as I see it--permeated with God’s awesome, mysterious, and, above all, loving presence.

  I paint as I feel God guides me, focusing on the unexpected, the yet to be seen, the enigma that envelops everything.

  God has many names; I propose a new one: God yet to be known --a God whose creation is always new and wonderful.

  A little girl in a Saturday children’s art class at the Memphis Academy of Art asked her teacher why trees look so bright after a rain, to which the teacher replied, “God washed off their dust to show us how bright and beautiful they are.” I want to wash off my work the dust of influences by other artists and poets, all the while knowing that every new vision I have contains a precious seed they planted. Jesus said, “Look, I make all things new.” (Revelation 21:5) I like to think I imitate his creativity.

  God never imitates himself. Each of his creations is unique. Imitators may have great spirituality, but they mimic what inspired other artists before them.

 

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