Yet We Cannot Fathom

 He has made everything beautiful in its time.  He also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.  

Ecclesiastes 3:11

Photo by Jessica White, KU campus

 Today is blusterly and cold.  Chilling to the bone when I went outside with the dog.  No one about and midnight black this morning before the sun had risen…waning moon still very bright, so intense, the stars were almost hidden.  I like that time of day when I have a sense of no one else with me but God.  Why is it usually easier to feel closer to God when outside or in rooms with very large expansive ceilings?  Perhaps that’s why the old cathedrals were built.  There’s a sense of God’s presence every time one looks up, especially outdoors to the sky.  The sky is never ending and it is easier to perceive God, if only a bit, when looking upward, outward.  Intuitively we know that God is infinite, not confined to space or even temporal boundaries.  Looking upward to the sky we see the limitless galaxy spread out before us and the recognition of something beyond nature, beyond measurement.

Even words, especially words, limit us to tiny understandings of the unfathomable.  Words are only symbols, after all, and the finite nature of symbols limits meaning.  In the realm of words, the closest thing to the infinite, the spaces between meaning, might be found in poetry…where meaning shifts and changes depending on when, where, or by whom the poem is read.

To some, art, music or dance may be even better in representing that which is not portrayable. In my mind, nature does it best.  If art reflects something of the mind of the artist, than nature reflects something of the mind of the Creator.  That’s why my spiritual life does best when I spend time outdoors—daily, if possible—reflecting, absorbing, drowning in the sensory experiences around me.  Nature is an open book that constantly draws me inside its story.  And so many stories it has to tell!  Every single one leads to the Creator!

Here’s a poem I wrote almost exactly a year ago….January 14, 2010, to be exact.  I’ve did some revising this morning, but it’s far from finished. 

Afternoon in January

My walk is nearly finished, the veil of winter

hides the sun, then briefly

I am gifted

with  rays of warmth and light

beyond.  The air is still,

and I am covered with grace.

Eyes shut I sense the waves of sea

sifting through grains of sand,

and I am not in Kansas anymore.