Sunday, October 17, 2010

My Church


I have a church.
I know some people don’t believe it,
but I do.
My church just doesn’t have walls,
something many expect
of a church.

But you see,
in the morning I look at the sunrise.
I watch the sky make its metamorphosis
from black to grey
to shades of pink
and orange
and red
and gold
and finally to the early morning blues
of the day ahead.
How can I not hear glory hallelujahs in this?

When I walk out
and look at the valley between me
and the mountains across the way,
I know I’m loved
and that I’m in the place I should be.
I see the trees,
protection for the animals
of His creation.
And for me.
I see the wildflowers in my yard
subtle and sweet,
not placed there by my hand
but scattered dots of yellow
and blue
and pink
and white
and purple
held aloft by the greens
that give them life.
How could I not believe?

At dusk I watch the deer grazing in the shrubs.
Their gentle eyes watch me back,
not afraid
but not trusting, either.
They seem to know I won’t hurt them.
And a short distance away from me,
we keep watch back and forth,
until they reach their fill
or move on to another place
before settling down for the night,
protected under the trees in the valley
of my morning.
How could I not feel safe?

in the dark of night,
a few steps from my door,
I look up.
The sky is untarnished by the lights of cities
too far away to matter
in my world on the side of the mountain.
The sky is solid black
like the cliched velvet.
It is rich with color,
or lack of color,
but dark
and rich
and thick
and endless.
But the stars,
scatter more thickly than one can believe,
are brilliant in a way one will never see against city lights.
They are dazzling
and luminous
and lustrous
and radiant
and resplendent.
I am reassured that my life is beyond blessed,
if that is possible.
How could I not call this my church?

I find reason to praise in every step of my day.
Sometimes I don’t pay attention
or look around me at the stained glass windows
or connect with my fellow worshippers
or remember to sing praises
but it’s always there.
I live in my church.



Jimmy said...

Love this poem, it really resonates with me. You have unlocked the doors of a building and let God out. I also haven't been part of a 'church' for some years but I have never lost my faith and hope in God.

Lynilu said...

I've said for years that one problem with most religions is that they put God in a box. It's a comfort, I suppose, to find god "predictable," but I prefer to let God show me His expanse! I agree, no "church" but faith all over the place!

Diana said...

I loved your poem Lyn. God is always with us, no matter where we are.
Love Di ♥

Lynilu said...

Thanks, Di, and yes, isn't that the coolest part of it? :) Love ya!

Bob said...

I feel closer to GOD in the wilderness than I (mostly) ever did in a church.

Lynilu said...

Me, too, Bob. That feeling of "being one" permeates when I'm out there. I love living just a couple miles from a National wilderness.

rosaria said...

I worship the same way. Blessed among blessings.

Lynilu said...

There is no better church, is there?