Winter

Winter...

darkness and doubt, clouds and confusion

     and You remain silent

i walked empty beaches listening for Your voice

    the winds and the waves were my only companions

i trekked abandoned, ice covered streets 
    straining for Your whisper

        the creaking and rustling of tree limbs alone met my ear
i hiked alone on a snow covered mountain
    squawking crows in the distant and a solitary jet
           merely momentarily piercing the isolation

i read Your Word into the late hours of the night

    agreeing with its truth, not returning to You void

               while somehow my heart seemed drained, empty

Your wounded and weary servants come to me

    i put on my "Barnabas" hat and encourage them

               with words of hope i believe for them not myself

we all celebrate yesterday's giants of the faith

    writing and wrestling with their dark nights of the soul

               Job like characters that declare their unfailing trust

but i am a mouse not a giant

    and not a noble, Narnian Reepicheep type

               but blind and tail-less, very small indeed

no ordinary, atheist rodent, mind you, i'm a church mouse

   although i think i understand how Camus, Hitchins
          Nietzsche, Rand, Sartre, others grappled with despair

their god was dead and they saw nothing beyond but

   meaninglessness, absurdity, randomness and nihilism

mine's not dead but certainly veiled

   as i look through a glass darkly, face to face a faded hope

Francis Schaeffer mocks me with 
           "He is there, and he is not silent"

C. S. Lewis paints with words the eternal dance

      others compose and join in, but the music fades  

 while i wrestle with "That Hideous Strength"

      as it sucks my joy, my vitality, 
             my hope, my vision, my dreams

a wasting disease gnaws at my psyche 
      as Winter becomes wither

             weighing me down further, because 
i'm not supposed to be this way

     the seasoned, resilient, energetic, "Spirit-filled" 
              mature, man of faith

nevertheless i’m unable to escape the sense

   You & i have cooperated in bringing me to this place

after the earthquakes, wind and fire swirling in my soul

    there comes the sound of a gentle blowing…

“I am the vine; you are the branches.
       Whoever abides in me and I in him,

                 he it is that bears much fruit, 
                     for apart from me you can do nothing.”

“But your iniquities have made a separation
 between you and your God, and your sins 
      have hidden His face from you so that He does not hear.”

“For if anyone thinks he is something when he is nothing, 
       he deceives himself.”

 “Humble yourselves in the presence of the Lord, 
             and He will exalt you.”

“He must increase, but I must decrease.”

“Let us not lose heart in doing good, 
        for in due time we will reap 
               if we do not grow weary.”

“For I am confident of this very thing, 
         that He who began a good work in you
             will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.”

“Therefore, having this ministry by the mercy of God, 
         we do not lose heart.”

“Where can I flee from Your presence?”

“But if I say, ‘I will not remember Him 
         or speak anymore in His name,’

then in my heart it becomes like a burning fire 
         shut up in my bones;

and I am weary of holding it in, and I cannot endure it.”

“Lo! The hosts of evil ’round us, 
Scorn Thy Christ, assail His ways.

From the fears that long have bound us, 
Free our hearts to faith and praise.

Grant us wisdom, grant us courage,

For the living of these days, for the living of these days.”

it is Winter within and without

    even so, there is someone blowing on my embers

          and red gardenias bloom outside my window

mark d. cooke, 2-3-2014