8.3.11

What's in a word? - His-story

Uttered
Those first words of earth
Commanded life that
Made visible truth and
Described their author,
Expressed His heart of
Beauty, Power, and Wonder

Shared
His words invited
Interaction with His heart
And discovery of His glory
Continued the flow
Of His goodness as
Together they began His story. 

Whispered
The word war began
With first ever untruth
Exalting death and
Enticing disobedience
Introduced alienation
From the face of life’s Word

Written
His story is recorded
Of all His acts
Preceded by words
But a word without
Its heart housed in a body
Becomes distant

Promised
His heart took a face
Again walked the earth
Made tangible His word
Speaking life from heart pure
And followed the word
Of His Father’s will

Everlasting
His words live on
Expressions of hearts
Changed by His work
Through the word of His gospel
Redeeming words
Back to His glory

 Playing along with Random Acts of Poetry at:

3.3.11

I hear them as I wrestle the frozen morsel: mom instructing every precaution to avoid contamination, the voices on the radio waves discussing the cause for a meatless diet. And I acknowledge as I do dinner preparations, that I am straying from the voice of both.

I do not have bleach to clean up after this exercise, and will be serving beef for dinner.

To this farm nurtured girl, beef was a staple on the table and in the finances. I ate the best, a work of my parents. Now a new bride in cottage country, I understand the lavish previously normal to me, is not typical; even contemptible.

The deeds that strike horror to some are merely part of a process for me.
“Should I be so indifferent?” I wonder as bare hands pry at raw meat. Though some arguments opposed to my diet are reasonable, I know the Creator has designated dominion. And the question of what that dominion was to include is abandoned to preoccupation with recipe and stove. The riddle of what was intended for my consumption, unsolved for the moment.

I cannot imagine myself a vegetarian. Neither can my doctor. Only the other month he encouraged more red meat in my diet on account of anemia. Though difficult to afford, and to obtain in satisfactory quality, beef still feels like a necessity.

One thought I don’t allow myself to dwell on. It is the same one provoking those opposed to my dinner plans; a thought very intimate to the Israelites of old gathered around the family lamb for Passover.

A life was birthed and sacrificed so I can live abundant, eternal.
Dinner is not a ceremonial affair, remembering reserved for communion. Yet, this truth seeps into puddles on my cutting board, into a life insulated from bloody deaths. I’d rather forget, reveling the lavish meal or joining the cause of meatless diets, than participate in reality. I’d rather avoid the necessity of death with attempts to create my own righteousness or deny the sacrifice and the promised splendor, than acknowledge the barbarian I am and sever my portion.

Could this dinner be gratitude for a life-giving sacrifice, honour for the cost of my lavish?
My Father would think so, it is his livelihood.

So today I’m consuming beef for dinner. Another day, when I’m living the lavish of glory beyond the reach of death, where the memory of the sacrifice is etched in the hands I’ll hold not in the carved dinner on my table, I’ll change my diet. It will consist of whatever my Father has prepared. And it will be good, better than all deadness I’ve ever eaten, because there I’ll be eating from the tree of life.

Sigh.

 Annotation:  Genesis 9:1-5 gives some clarity on God's view.
 
For futher consideration:
What the Earth Gives @ the high calling. . . Ann's quote particularly catches my thoughts, halts my reading...
 
The Spirit of Food @ amazon . . . this book, on my list to read.