Hands Out, Palms Up: I Surrender

Its a rush, its revealing
There’s not much I can to
To prevent her from stealing
My heart; I wont protect
Its too late for that
Even so its not like I could select
She wasn’t just a face in a crowd
She wasn’t just an arbitrary thought
To love; my heart wishes it was allowed.

Masterpiece

Sometimes i feel like a piece of stained glass. one that everyone looks at and admires and "oohs" and "aahs" as the sunlight hits me and scatters brilliance all around. But i look down at me and see the minute imperfections: the bubbles in the glass, the stains and uneven surfaces. And i see the glaring imperfections: the cracks, the the chips and the broken pieces...i know that if anyone could see me from where i see me they would not ooh and aah so much anymore.

I also feel like a hypocrite. im just glass...im nothing special--infact im just painted glass. im something ordianry that has been chopped up into a mosaic and displayed in grandios fake glory--DONT LOOK AT ME. i scream it in my heart of hearts. but then in my pride i like being looked at, i enjoy the praise of others. and in my vain i marvel at my own color spashed on the walls by the sun. yes, what a real hypocrite i am. I am selfish in my hypocricy too, i dont want anyone to look at the other pieces of stained glass, no, only look at me. i dont want them to like any of my fellow stained glass panes, they must only appreciate MY color and MY beauty. its sad really. at the end of the day when all the admirerers have gone home i reflect on my reflection and realize how utterly selfish and prideful i really am.

Thats when i overemphasize my cracks, thats where i scrutinize the small imperfecions on my glossy exterior and mourn the chips that mar my surface. "why?" i scream. "Why did i do this to myself?" "no one will want me...no one will ever accept me because of what i've done!" My pride turns to despair and self-loathing. There never seems to be a middle ground. I am either in love with my own magnificence or crushed by my own imperfections.

But you know the wonderful thing about stained glass? The wonderful thing about stained glass is that it was created. I did not make myself. Oh, in those moments of selfish pride i imagine that i have...but did i fasion my translucent pane by myself? did i design my mosaic? did i paint the beautiful artwork that is me?
See, the wonderful thing about stained glass is that it had a maker. a designer. an artist.
I am HIS masterpiece. When the sun hits me and casts out my array of colors it is HE who gets the credit for my brilliance.
And my artist is patient enough with me when i break myself. He is compassionate when others chip me. And he reminds me that i was born and conceived in imperfection and that someday my shiny surface will be without imperfections.
It is then that i realize that though my surface is marred by many cracks--some of them quite large, and though i have some gauges and chips, these imperfections only serve to make the light shine more beautifully through me because they have become additional refractors of light in my artist's brilliant masterpiece.

My Strength Has Failed

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High Will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say to the LORD, "My refuge and my fortress, My God in whom i trust!" For it is He who delivers you from the snare of the trapper and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with his pinons and under His wings you may seek refuge; His faithfulness is a shield and bulwark. (Psalm 91:1-4)

When i came across these few verses in Psalms they just seemed to jump off the page. I was first struck by the many names for God used, "Most High", "Almighty", "LORD", "My God", This is purposeful and deliberate. The writer is seeking to show the many facets of God's character that are the reasons for his psalm of trust. The writer goes on to describe God as a "refuge", "Fortress", "deliverer", "Shield" and a "Bulwark". He also uses the imagery of a mother bird protecting her young under her wings.

The beginning of this passage says that it will be the one who dwells in the "shelter of the Most High" who receives the benefits of the Lord's protection and provision. Adam Clark in his commentary points out that the "shelter of the Most High" probably refers to the Holy of Holies in the tabernacle. He who enters legitimately there shall be covered with the cloud of God's glory-the protection of the all-sufficient God. This was the privilege of the high priest only, under the law: but under the new covenant all believers in Christ have boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus; and those who thus enter are safe from every evil. John Gill says that it is in this place that believers also are shown His everlasting love, it is made known to them and they dwell in it.

Its fascinating how this provision and protection that we as God's Children receive is at once seen as a mighty defensive structure (shield, refuge and bulwark) and at the same time also a tender caregiver (A mother hen protecting her young), both something that we as fragile humans desperately need. This metaphor of a mother bird sheltering her chicks is common in sacred writings, it refers to God taking us under his wings when birds of prey appear, and also sheltering us from chilling blasts. Furthermore, it is interesting that the The Septuagint reads: εντοις μετα φρενοις αυτου επισκιασεισοι “He will overshadow thee between his shoulders” This alludes to the custom of parents carrying their weak or sick children on their backs, and having them covered even there with a mantle.

This Psalm of faith written most likely by David reminds me that my God is worthy to be trusted in all circumstances, those in which he is my fortress and shield and even those that in which he is my father, cradling me upon his massive, capable shoulders when my strength has failed. and many times he is both these things--and more--at the same time.