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| Dove in Flight-public domain
Oaks and a few struggling pines snug
down into this pocket valley, offering refuge from the mid-day heat. Above the
aged line of treetops, a barren hillock lunges upward, step by jagged step. From
where I sit, this shady dent in the earth is the palm of God’s great hand.
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Beyond me lies “the world” and
all its machinations, its splendors, its complexities, its uncounted woes
A simplistic scenario, of course. Woe
and splendor are played out here as elsewhere. But for the moment, I can settle
back beneath the branches of this gnarly old behemoth and pretend we are
sequestered here together.
We see beyond us the long, tangled-scrub
heights, a fairly formidable barrier, and beyond that the great unknown where
“the rest of the world lives and dies.” It is, for now, beyond our seeing.
Now let's imagine sudden wings upon our
backs. We are able to rise above these “formidable” heights and see beyond. The
heights have shrunk beneath us, and now breadth is our barrier. So much of a muchness!
Too much to take in, to compress into a soul-scape sized to our perceiving.
And once again we are instantly equipped
for this great transposition. We have only to lock our eyes upon some small, distant
point . . . and we are there. It lies before us, demystified.
Now we see with unaccustomed
clarity, close up, what once was simply an unknown―or a vague perplexity, a perhaps
dangerous complexity, with attributes that distance had distorted. Now we know
what is, and our response is subject to our sudden fuller vision.
Back and forth we go, from one
compelling spot or scene to another, taking in the new landscape, perceiving
what is in the context of all that lies around it―all we never really
knew before.
And then, back once again in our
familiar “pocket,” we are changed; we are spoiled for the old margins and
myopias that so long constricted us. We will go out beyond the barriers of
height and breadth, on the wing of expanded thought…on the Wing of
Prayer. We will see, or more aptly, perceive,
and we will know. And we will listen for the Word that puts it all in focus.
Vision . . . the point of this small,
homely metaphor. Vision creates the kind of prayer that leaps all
barriers of land and mind and spirit. And of course, prayer creates the kind of
Vision that knows no barriers. It is this sacred synergy that draws us
to that God-filled dimension, “a little lower than the angels,” where the real
work of the Kingdom is done.
A great leap of faith indeed.
Vision . . . that
insight/hindsight/foresight Begotten within us when we aren't gnawing on the
bones of earth. We often have wings when we least expect and most need them—and
now we feel the push and rush of wind beneath our aspirations. This is an
uncommon-common gift of God, this perception. It is meant to be ordinary—which is why it is
extraordinary.
Humanity is, by nature, bred to think
beyond our small world-set, but it is our
own questing thoughts (and those of others) that guide us. When God moves upon
us, He infiltrates; it is a beautiful
Awakening. Our responses to ordinary
become, if we choose, extraordinary. Seeing beyond sight. Knowing beyond our staid
or heated opinion. Our conjectures and mental-emotional particularities are
confirmed or amended or shredded—with sudden and often compelling clarity. For
the smallest reasons, by our reckoning. It is, perhaps, the difference between
begrudging and believing. The schism between pouting and praying. It is meant
to become our ordinary, this Second
Sight—for greater reasons than we can imagine, by the reckoning of God. And
this is the ground laid for prayer.
When this wonderfully real Gift comes, it
comes at the point of sacrifice—our willing escape from that prison-of-mind which
long constrained us. When we are touched by this costly commonality—unity—this hidden treasure released in us and by
us, we are free. We become real. More real than we ever pretended to before. And everything looks different.
In
our stumble of living, there is refuge from our raw responses. We are, when we plead,
held in the palm of God’s great hand, to learn and to tell back what we now see.
Our
prayers will have wings.
