Sunday, February 3, 2013

Altars and Burning Bushes

Of Altars and Burning Bushes – Jan 28, 2013

Your still and quiet voice
Whispers softly to my heart
Cannot ignore its’ powerful call
Tears come as memory rises

You turn my minds eye
To look from this vista
Back over my life
Molded by your skillful hand

Catching glimpses
Of altars and burning bushes
Carefully placed
Where you met with me

You have made these promises
And you have never failed
Never forsaken me or any other
Your words our anchor

In life’s inevitable storms

Can’t take the credit
But I can treasure hope
For this thing I have never lacked
The blessings you’ve bestowed

And because of these blessings
I have built these altars
Where my eyes have seen
Your miracles and victories

I stand here and my tongue confesses
The truth of your love
Your undeniable hand
In these unforgettable moments

I have not faced the Red sea
And no oppressors like Egypt
But still you have heard my cry
To be saved from my enemies

And so I have looked back
Over a life like so many others
With its challenges and battles
And I have seen burning bushes

Moments where you have spoken
God moments
Where my heart beat faster
For I knew I was in your presence

Standing on holy ground

So when this old world
Does its best to drag me down
To drown my hopes
In overflowing sadness

I look back over my shoulder
Back over the distance
Down the length and breadth
Of this fragile life

And to my minds eye
You bring forth
Every altar set there
To remember each miracle

The greatest to the smallest

And warm tears begin to fall
Like joyful rain
On my grateful heart
For I have not forgotten

I have not let slip away
The burning bushes
Or the angel songs
The answered cries

For you are faithful
And I will not let go
Though hope is fragile
I have not let it go

So may those who read
These mortal words
And these finite phrases
Look carefully backwards

And may they never miss
Nor dare to overlook
The burning bush moments
And the altars reverently built

On their own journey
Over the sands of time
And into their present
Carried forward, this gift

And may they not let go
Of this same hope
That he will never leave nor forsake
Those that love him and seek his face

by Michael Meehan