Monday, October 24, 2011

All Saints Church, Circa 1767 & 2011

with a back drop of deep azure, the mild autumn breeze

gently brushed the Spanish moss

as i looked out over the old church cemetery

kneeling in the stillness of the colonial edifice

the quiet interrupted by passing cars

i sought a refreshing touch

as my weary soul reflected on pilgrimage

from a place of immeasurable blessing

emerges a constant nagging, holy discontent

how to comprehend the tension

guided, protected, provided, forgiven, healed, restored

overwhelmed, favored, gifted, loved

all countered by an ambivalent longing

“There must be more than this!”

“The peace that passes all understanding keep…”

i hear the priests down through the ages

facing these weathered pews

i hear me saying it

so often a so familiar routine

that it wisps past my heart, my mind

yet passing my understanding, my mind, my consciousness

the Master whispers deep within

“My peace I leave with you.” “Peace, be still!”

“These things I have spoken unto you,

that in me you might have peace.”

“I extend peace to you like a river and

the glory of the nations like an overflowing stream.”

i sigh deeply, thinking shamefully of a life too often lived

frenetically without trust in His future grace

“Grace and peace through our Lord Jesus Christ”

the phrase echoing in my heart, strangely

synonymous with a call to repentance

Your grace and peace seem fleeting, Father, only

because in my pride and self-centeredness

i have left my first love

“Come, come let us return to the Lord!”

“If you return to me, I will restore you!”

and so i bow, arms resting on the pew

my soul cries, my heart aches, my body weeps

i glance up towards the altar

my eyes rest upon the lone candle

its flame flickering within the red sconce

“may its brightness never dim” – reads the plaque

again I hear my Prince, my Captain, my King…

“I am the light of the world.” “I am your light.”

the shadows, the ambivalence, the discontent, the tension

all fade, if only for the moment

for until i gaze upon Him face to face

i still see through this mortal veil

awaiting that day when He wipes away every tear

removes all mourning, crying and pain

i will give thanks for the respite of this hallowed place

knowing that even this historic “permanence”

will pass away when He makes all things new

“You have turned for me my mourning into dancing;
you have loosed my sackcloth & clothed me with gladness,
that my glory may sing your praise and not be silent.
O LORD my God, I will give thanks to you forever!”

- mark d. cooke, 10-24-11

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

The Throne of God - Parts 1 & 2

Part 1.

the trees creak and moan

the rustling leaves sound like angelic music

black birds soar and glide on mighty currents

swaying limbs bow before the Lord of the Dance

the dogwoods have faded – azaleas soon to follow

everywhere behind the camouflage of spring

the choral cries of feathered creatures

hovering over all

a vast canopy of Carolina blue

in my mind i go back to something ageless, ancient

a place that calls to me – draws me

a deep, eternal, internal beckoning.

the pull of my earthly homeland

pales before this celestial longing.

still the natural gives me murky reflections

of what is to come.

rows and rows of man’s brick and mortar,

the appearance of permanence

that will in a moment crumble

much like my own earthly tent

boys on bicycles and butterflies in bushes

shadow – substance - temporal – eternal

yesterday – the boy was me

today – the butterfly calls to my aging frame

of new creations.

tomorrow – no more dimly lit mirrors

now – I stare at the heavens

and with all creations declaring His praises

i behold the Throne of God.

mark d. cooke, 04/01/1997

Part 2

“I saw the Throne room!” i sensed the awe in her voice

as man’s technology conveyed her words

from Raleigh to my study

The Throne room … seen through the eyes of the Spirit

where the temporal gives way

to a far more permanent yet invisible realm

a mere glimpse to shatter all earthly care

have I not captured

shadows of its image with the naked eye?

is this possible? all around an autumn blaze

declares the craftsmanship of Creator Spirit

brooding over His dominion

the anticipation of a world aflame with that same Spirit

every tree a reflection of the one tree

every stream pointing to the River

every blade of grass crying out

“I will fade, but His word endures…”

animal sounds, insect vibrations

the restless noises of man in motion

in totality there emanates a message

“Something is coming! Something is coming!

Something is coming!”

there is a destination to all of this

a deep blue October sky

a phone call from a friend

reflections in the Book,

words from anointed messengers

all beckoning me to prophesy to the wind

“Come breath of God! Give us life. Prepare us to see… the Throne of God.”

mark d. cooke 10/30/1997