Between the lines,
in between the times spent in a day
bracketed by coffee in the morning
and a night cap before sleep,
in between snores and midnight's rise.
Then there is the ordinary,
the moments without prophetic utterance,
goosebumped flesh, or rallying cries for morality.
At the office, in the classroom, on the lonely park bench,
the places in a day that have become monotonous routine.
Faithfulness ceases not when feelings or discernment are dulled.
A place nor time exists that is not filled
with the whispers and dances and laughter and loving embraces
of a community defined by three in one.
God-with-us is more than the words
of dead prophets; it is more than a reality
for a chosen few, divinely elected; it is the
truth for me and for you,
in the office, the classroom, on the lonely park bench,
in the ordinary, and between the lines.
For the past few days, I've been thinking off and on about the presence of God in my life, as I wrestle with what it means to touch base, have quiet time, etc. I want more and more to be aware of the fact that the faithfulness of God is not determinate upon whether or not I pick up a bible or fold my hands in solemn solitude. For me, right now, life is really good. Good job, great relationships, just had a wonderful holiday; essentially, there's really nothing to complain about. I suppose that these are the times I wrestle with the most because it's easy to pray and seek the Lord in times of crisis and late papers. Yet, if I trust the Gospel, then I trust that the presence of God is more real than I realize; I suppose I'm trying to cultivate walking prayer, a conversation with God like a conversation with friends over coffee. So, out of wrestling to realize the faithfulness of God in the ordinary and in between times comes this poem. Thanks for listening.