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