‘Quiet Movements’ - Sarah Buckwell (shared in Chapel)
You are silent.
I bring you my worries,
kneeling down before you,
in all that time has made me,
I plead to you my pain.
Yet,
You are silent.
I cry out all the ways,
I need you to move.
All the ways
I would be okay,
if you just did,
this one thing.
I bargain with you,
and beg,
that you would give me this,
if I do
a bit more of that.
I beg that you would
cast her pain
onto me.
Use what I have
and give it away
to those I see hurting.
But despite the
bargaining of my grief,
You are still,
silent.
But silence
is not absence.
I know that
you are here.
I know that
you have
bridged the gap,
making a way.
I know that you are
a way maker.
But I still feel scared.
I still feel alone.
My heart is still hurting.
And those around me
are still drowning
in pain.
And then
you speak.
Not in ways that
I had thought I would hear.
Not in ways that
scream back
at my cries of pain.
Instead
you move
quietly.
Just below the surface
of a calm water.
You.
Are.
Moving.
Moving within my heart
and all the broken parts
of my being.
Moving within this world
and in all the ways
we have fallen far from you.
Moving amongst us
to bring us back to you.
Moving through us
to spread your light.
Moving within us
to heal our wounds.
So though
the hurt runs deep,
I will let your love
run deeper.
Though the world seems dark,
I will find the light of your flame.
No matter how small the flicker.
No matter how cold the embers.
And each new day
as the sun rises up,
I too will rise up again.
Not always because I feel like it.
But because you have
shown your love to me
in the past,
so I will walk forward
testifying through it all,
that it is well with my soul.
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