Monday, January 7, 2019 – Virtuoso

Sometimes, I read words that have been crafted together by a master to form a poem or a paragraph, and I am overcome with hireath, and a sense of something deeper than I can explain (recently, the poetry of John Blase is doing that).

When gifted musicians perform, they become as one with the notes that flow from them. They close their eyes as they sing or coax music from an instrument, overcome with the power and beauty of the outflowing.

Artists of all kind—sculptors, painters, even master chefs and designers—pour something of themselves into what they create. Even I, when overwhelmed, can’t help but let some of it out to take form in the written word.

Last night, before bed, I read something that made me smile in wonder. I went to sleep thinking about it, and I am still pondering it this morning. It is a simple thought, and not a new one, yet it is one almost too wonderful to fathom.

What if we were created from the overflow of God’s love? What if we are God’s song?

I believe we are.

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There was a time, a number of years ago, when I was captivated by a song written and performed by David Phelps called Virtuoso. It speaks, in a small way, to what’s on my mind this morning. I thought I’d share it with you.

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And here, for your reading pleasure, is a poem from John Blase’s delicious The Jubilee collection called The Bravest Thing.

maybe the bravest thing
is opening your eyes in the
morning and placing your
two feet on the cold floor and
rising up against the gravity
of the night. maybe that’s the
brave thing from which all other
bravery flows, the brave to
seek ye first. maybe that’s the
single thing God requires of you,
the spiritual discipline that takes
all your will to muster. Swallow
down the fear, my child, and face
the dawning day for what the
surface of the world needs most
of all is bravery skipping and
you, yes you are the stone.

And, just because, here is a link to a post on John’s blog where he answered a reader’s question about the poem.
In it you see his artist-pilgrim-former-pastor’s heart. Maybe you will be moved to check out more of his work or buy this collection. You should. It will feed you. 

I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things and the thin places where faith intersects.
  1. It gave me goosebumps, Linda. Such beauty!

    1. I’m glad you liked it Diane.

  2. Thank you for the poem link, so beautiful, so good. You are a sweet treasure, my sweet friend. I love reading the glimpses of the inner life of one who is brave enough to blossom as they lift their face toward the Son.

    1. I’m pleased the poetic words spoke to you, my friend. Love your comment about lifting our faces toward the Son. It’s all the sweeter when we do it with like-minded friends like you alongside.

  3. Thank you for reminding me of the word hireath and for the idea of being a skipping stone – wow!

    1. Isn’t it a magical thought–us as a skipping stone? And hireath…yes, I sometimes think that I live there.

  4. This so resonated. I often read your words and have that same feeling you describe. I smile.
    And then, John Blase’s poem made me cry. So simple and so perfectly speaks to me. Thank you.

    1. I’m so glad you liked John’s words, Martha. His work is beautiful. And thank you for your kind thoughts about this space.

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