The streets were so quiet that Sunday afternoon, the breeze carried only the faint sounds of some yard work and the occassional bark of a dog.
The sky had threatened rain after Church but it never came. I spent the afternoon walking the dog and reading by the partially open window.
The words of the Deacon's sermon stayed with me into the evening, and I let them speak to my heart and my mind kept coming back to simple and profound truths.
The language of eternity swirls around, even in silence, they cut through the sayings of despair, to continue burning the embers that stoke the fire in the hearts of man.
All the quiet, the windows partially open, Spring coming, pushing Winter out of the sky. All htings must pass, this too shall pass, nothing will remain, except for the stone carved words of God and all that he wills.
Those spounds are the constant refrain fo scripture and of quiet Sunday afternoons, and in the quiet that settles in and around the sanctuary, and, in the final surrender to God, saying, "You're will be done!" God is always there, barely breaking the silence of quiet and serene Sunday afternoons.
(only broken by the occassional bark of a dog and hte presence around the altar.)
Even in the dark of night, the intrusive thoughts of my head make room for these whispers of eternity.
The night settled in, grabbing his focus, growing terror, settling into his veins, and allowing his sweat to become like blood, that night, under a full moon, the intensity left him exhausted and even more afraid.
A whisper of doubt, a possible way out? until the answer he sought was no! Rising desperation - Your will be done, in you I trust. Then he got up of fthe ground and in increasinbng darkness he found his friends asleep, then his betrayer arrived and the hour of shadows was upon him.
Following a long week, I returned to that small Church out by the ocean. He preached about Christmas and Easter flowers.
(He said that they can be replanted as a reminder of God's glory and his continued presence in our lives.)
He spoke of the Easter candle, and that its shrinking size represents the passage of time and the arrival of new lives, it also shows us that God remains long after the doors are closed, and the flame of the candle is gone, those whispers, those longing, tugging, feelings that make us return to another version of revelation, inviting us to eternity.