Caveman

The sweet, earthy scent of freshly cut grass wafts through the open window on the gentle morning breeze and greets me while I sit in contemplation. It rouses me from the quiet, inward conversation with you, closer than my breath, and I am led into the great, cosmic conversation you are having all around me. I lean in to listen. I hear the birds from their perches amid the new buds of the trees sing the song my heart wrote for you, the song we all sing and will always sing. I see the branches dancing to the joyful tune, the clouds - now parting, now coming together - to wash them in shadows and light. I see that it is good. You made it all good. And I drink in that goodness like a long awaited glass of cold water.

You invite me to seek first the kingdom.
The hidden kingdom.
The here, but not fully here, kingdom.
The treasure of great value.
The thing it was your glory to conceal.
The think it is my glory to seek out.

And you say,
My dove is hiding behind the rocks, behind the outcrop on the cliff. Let me see your face; let me hear your voice. For your voice is pleasant and your face is lovely.
Song of Songs 2:14

And I wonder, am I part of this hidden treasure of your kingdom? Am I buried somewhere in need of excavation and recovery? You say I am hiding behind rocks, concealing my face, stilling my voice. Did I run into the cave when I heard you coming, just like my mother Eve?

Oh to be this tree. To be so fully who I was created to be without the slightest hesitation, confusion or insecurity. To stand so majestic and self-assured! To be so fully occupied with worship as to not even consider myself. Oh to be this tree who knows exactly who he is and has no need of the knowledge.

I don’t know how to bare myself - like these trees. Like the morning breeze. Open and honest. But you say I am lovely. You say my voice is pleasant.

So I give you what I have, from where I hide, a caveman awaiting rescue.