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Primitive religion is not believed, it is danced!

Arthur Darby Nock

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

Elizabeth Browning



Tuesday, May 1, 2012

This thing called love

This thing called love
How dare we symbolize it
With cuddly animals
Or pink hearts?

Have we no respect?
Love is more like the sun,
Searing
Blinding

It pulls us inexorably with its power
Sucking us in
Helpless

Into its heat
Its flaming chaos
Until we fear that we will be powerless
And consumed

No it is not safe
This thing called love
And so we want to run
To hide
To seek safety away from the fire

And yet
In the fire of authentic love
We are refined
Remade
Restored

Losing our self we find our self
Losing we gain
What we seek
 ________________

God is love   I John  4:7

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