Keren Dibbens-Wyatt's Blog, page 7
February 26, 2018
Lent 11
[image error]
Each head is tuned slightly apart, and God’s heart knows each frequency and speaks to it in its own language of love, not an impersonal broadcast to all four winds, but a soft Gaelic whisper in your inner ear, a sweeping sweet vision across your inner sight, for those who have attuned themselves, being drawn in by love.
Art and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2018
February 24, 2018
Lent 10
[image error]
Perhaps we should give up clothing glimpses of the Glory with our utterly insufficient speech. We stand in the cleft with Moses and the back of Glory passes us by, and we charge at it with butterfly nets like tiny toddlers, falling over our own feet as we try to catch sparks that escape through the holes. We only look foolish. As though we might pin down anything of such Wonder!
Photo and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2018
February 23, 2018
Lent 9
[image error]
How deep the breath that makes this silence roar, and how soft the stillness that sits patiently for moments and aeons, emanating love to us in such small hope of any return.
Art and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2018
February 22, 2018
Lent 8
[image error]
Can you imagine how deeply he is feared and loved? How galaxies float upon the surface of his eye, and how every created thing but us, rushes to serve him?
Art and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2018
February 21, 2018
Lent 7
[image error]
This is not some witless nothing, weak and insipid, a god with rheumy eyes and brittle bones. This is a power, raw and mighty, a majesty undreamt of and a fist, if it chooses to curl, that could shatter the earth with one blow. Do not mistake slowness for indecision, it is gravitas. Do not imagine frailty, there is a core of fibrous strength that reaches across nebulae without blinking. This is not a feeble God, who holds together all that is.
Art and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2018
February 20, 2018
Lent 6
[image error]
This is the still small voice of God, a gentle whisper that underscores mountain ranges and holds oceans in the palm of its hand. We are all homesick for its acceptance and its loving smile.
Art and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2018
February 19, 2018
Lent 5
[image error]
This tide is what pulls us in, draws us like a magnet, to the Centre, when we truly pray. Once it has held you, you remain enraptured for the rest of your life and susceptible to its call. It will call you from the perfection of a flower or the drama of a high note quivering in the air on a soprano’s breath. You will recognise it more and more often, for it is the call of home.
Photo and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2018
February 17, 2018
Lent 4
[image error]
When we receive as Manna a foretaste of heaven, we are still unsatisfied, because we want immediate gratification, immediate perfection, and instead we have to scrape our food off the desert floor. Bent down with our noses to the ground, we quickly become tired of the same fare, even when it tastes of heaven.
Photo and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2018
February 16, 2018
Lent 3
[image error]
The chambers of my heart are open for God to fly in. For there is an altar here to his name, and like the sparrow in the psalm he comes to make his nest before it. In love, I do the same thing in his heart. I in you and you in me.
See Psalm 83:4, John 17:21
Art and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2018 (inspired by a reference photo by James Scott Smith with kind permission)
February 15, 2018
Lent: Day Two
[image error]
God’s wave crashes on my shore each morning, reminding me of who I am and why I breathe, and how I am loved.
Art and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2018
