Introducing my friend and housemate Kandace, who is a very talented creative writer… here’s something she wrote a while back.
Any Sunday morning in November.
Church bells peal in the distance
summoning the people to worship
in a language they do not understand,
a language they refuse to learn.
My ears hear, my eyes see:
the grey stone fortress
replete with shadow and mystery,
penetrated by sharp, compact rays of coloured light
pulsing through the cracks.
I have knelt in that place to marvel and to wonder
to be pressed down by the heavy air
and weighty sense of a Being greater than myself
resting His hand upon my head.
But today, my feet are etching a new way.
We have searched the Scriptures,
sieving them for nuggets of gold,
elusive revelation which we hope will bring life.
Some claim to have grown rich in their mining;
but I wonder if they are still trapped
deep underground in labyrinthine tunnels,
destined and determined to scrabble in the mud.
There is a revelation at surface level, plain for all to see
if they have eyes to see, ears to hear, a heart to understand.
Today I worship unenclosed by hard grey stone,
outside of the tunnels that thread
through the pages of Scripture;
I worship in Beech Cathedral,
satiated with every spectrum of light and brightness.
The gold is beneath my feet and above my head
showering blessings upon my crown with each sigh of wind.
A roof of orange, red, gold: fiery flames
burning like incense up to the pale sky beyond.
The mighty pillars are living and breathing,
centuries old, straight and strong as iron bars
yet honestly displaying the gnarled evidence
of attacks and affronts they have borne
patiently over the years.
There is the hush of the wind, the silence of the air
and the music of all creation
to lift my heart above the treetops.
With every other creature, I marvel
that the King has hidden the treasure
of His Kingdom all around us.
It is His pleasure to give it.