The Lord makes streams in the desert.
He makes the desert a garden
The garden a forest.
Surely my inheritance is beautiful.
(Isa 35:6; 32:15; Ps 16:6)
The work of earth fits us for heaven.
Does the rest of heaven fit us for a glorified earth?
Fear not, O seed, to perish in the spring.
(1 Cor 15:36)
Not so many meditations this month. Part of it is that these meditations are a scratchpad (commonplace book?) for ideas that may or may not be employed in more structured poetry, and contra normal MO, I have far more than one poem cooking at the moment. Almost overwhelmingly so. So a lot of my contemplative activity is not curbed so much as delayed.
Additionally, while school and family emergency have taken much of time for creative contemplation, they have not taken my meditation. Chronicles from my daily reading is full of the steadfast love and faithfulness of the Lord, and after that finished up, Job 33:27 has much occupied my thoughts these last couple weeks: “I sinned and perverted what was right, and it was not repaid to me!” What incredible joy—Elihu says it is properly a song—to be thus forgiven by such a wonderful God.
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