(Inspirational Reading by Ken Gire)
God stretched out the heavens, stippling the night with impressionistic stars. He set the sun to the rhythm of the day,
to the rhythm
of the month, the seasons to the rhythm of the year. He blew wind through reedy marshes
and beat drums
of distant thunder.
He formed a likeness of Himself from a lump of clay and into it breathed life.
He crafted a counterpart
to complete the likeness, joining
the two halves and placing them center stage
in His creation where there was a temptation and a fall, a great loss and a great hiding.
God searched for the hiding couple, reaching to pick them up, dust them off, draw them near.
Though they hardly knew it
at the time.
After them, He searched for their children and for their children's children.
And afterward wrote stories of His search.
In doing all this, God gave us art, music, sculpture, drama, and literature. He gave them as footpaths to lead us out
of our hiding places
and as signposts to lead us along in our search for what was lost.
Shaped from something of earth and something of heaven, we were torn between two worlds.
A part of us wanted to hide.
A part of us wanted to search. With half-remembered words still legible in our hearts
and faintly sketched images still visible
in our souls,
some of us stepped out of hiding and started our search.
Though we hardly knew where to look.
We painted to see if what was lost was in the picture. We composed to hear if what was lost was in the music.
We sculpted to find if what was lost was in the stone. We wrote to discover if what was lost was in the story.
Through art and music and stories we searched for what was missing from our lives.
Though at times we hardly knew it.
Though at times we could hardly keep from knowing it.
The German poet Rilke tells of one of those times in a fable where the sculpting hands of Michelangelo
"tore at the stone as
at a grave, in which a faint dying voice is flickering. 'Michelangelo,' cried God in dread, 'who is in the stone?'
his hands were trembling. Then he answered in a muffled voice:
'Thou, my God, who else? But I cannot reach Thee.'"
We reach for God in many ways. Through our sculptures and our scriptures. Through our picture and our prayers.
Through our writing and our worship. And through them He reaches for us.
His search begins with something said. Ours begins with something heard. His begins with something shown.
Ours, with something seen. Our search for God and His search for us meet at the windows in our every day experience.
These are the windows of the soul.
- Ken Gire