It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad.
How do you hatch a soul?
Images of God as mother bird fluffed, brooding, stirring the nest he has made for us, peek over the horizon of my well defined God-caricature, threatening to take the paint brush away from me, demanding that I start again. This time with softer colors, and rounded edges.
God the perfect temperature.
God the perfect weight and balance.
God the nest builder.
God the patient, all things beautiful in His time,
Calls to me from outside the shell,
refusing to break it lest it make me weak,
and deformed in my understanding.
Calling, ever calling as I gasp
straining at air in the tiny
pocket of life as I knew it-
Break open, or die
BREAK open or DIE-
“I know the plans I have for you,”
says the Hatcher
“Break open and live,
Thoughts to prosper you-
Break open and live-
Give you an ending to what I have begun-
Break open to live”
God the dream maker spreads his wings over my hatching,
shielding my nakedness from the prying eyes of
God the hatcher of my soul,
Keep me in the shadow of your wings,
under the watching of your eye,
where my soul can find it’s trust to break
in the rhythm of your love.
Mat 23:37 O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, that killeth the prophets, and stoneth them that are sent unto her! how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not!
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