A Notion of the Holy

 There are virtues that we all strive towards. In the heart of every person, there is a divine pull towards a greater self, one in possession of virtue. We search for truth, hope, love, faith, and Grace. We look our whole lives for some attainable version of those attributes. We take what others give us, what we find, what we think we deserve. 

We drink tinted virtues like muddied water. We are loved with neglectful obsession, forgiven with half-hearted acceptance, and seen with fractured sight. What would it be if all our actions were as full-bodied as we wish they were? What if all the deep crevices in our hearts were filled with the extremity of virtue? 

How sweet would it be to be loved uncontrollably? How rich to be forgiven entirely and valued so thoroughly? How magnificent to be seen completely as we are? 

For centuries, literature has pursued such utter wholeness--virtuous perfection. Who are Romeo and Juliet if not the finite epitome's of devotion? Who is Hercules if not the paragon of human strength? Time fails to mention the humility of Tiny Tim, the innocence of Alice, or the honor of King Arthur. Yet in all our imaging and all our invention, we only replicate the perfect virtue that we yearn for. 

How can we desire it, how can we replicate it, if complete virtue does not exist? We are led to believe that it does then, in a person greater than man. The Father of man--the Beginner of him--God himself, always in possession of perfect morality. 

One day, blessed day, we will reach our feeble hands through the veil of death to feel His omnipotent grip in return. It is then, that we will experience the true wonder of perfection. How fantastic are those divine couplings--undying love, unquenchable goodness, fathomless mercy, utterly rapturous grace. Our adjectives will collapse completely useless at the discovery of His true nature. What will such words as infinite and perfect hold in comparison to Him--a match to a forest fire, a raindrop to an ocean. 

Holy. We may say only Holy. 

All the negatives, all the broken-pieces and torturous shards of this mundane life, will be left in the shadow His celestial beauty casts behind itself. Take your unending pain, your unimaginable grief, and your invincible despair. Release them in the unutterable depths of God's nature. Let them drown. Allow the feeble natures of this momentary flash of life to be swallowed up in the inevitable wonder of our Almighty God. 


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Lampyridae 06.20.22

Hello Little Beautiful,  Welcome Home.  Tonight while we were listening to our favorite radio program--I wonder if you can remember it now--you fell fast asleep on the couch. I got up, but you stayed sleeping. Your hair which seems so neat and tidy during the day always grows full and fuzzes out while you sleep, clinging to your face and sticking to the pillows and cushions as your head lulls back and forth with every deep breath.  I made tea, careful to keep the kettle from whistling and waking you.  It hasn't rained in at least two weeks, and the change seems to mark the true beginning of summer. The unforgiving recession of winter and the drastic overhaul of spring seem to end in a lingering ellipses, not an omission but a pause. Before the heat of summer comes to bear in full force, there is a short space of calm between the wet and the heat. Maybe its the weather's confusion, but it feels to me, like clarity.  The dark outside our door was a blur of shade and light. I sat
Read more

Mud Pies 10.04.21

Hello Little Beautiful, Welcome Home.  I wish you could remember how beautiful Avalon was this morning. The sun rose lazily, and the forest air distilled into pure honey, glazing every breeze with a chill and gilding every bough in gold. Everything was cold and wet, studded over with dew. As the morning came, the earth seemed to give off a cool exhale that rose to meet the sun. The cabin roof dripped, the gutters muttered, and the wind tapped at the living room windows. The breeze through the kitchen was the clearest I’ve ever felt, and the rain at noon only revitalized it.             I let you out to play in the mud; nothing could keep you from it. On any ordinary day, you would have been thrilled by any mud construction, but today I was making bread in the kitchen, and the impulse to mimic my art with mud was far too strong for you to resist. For nearly two hours, I watched you through the window over the sink as you formed mud pies, carried them over to the stone wall by the cr
Read more

Green Sweater 08.04.21

           Hello, Little Beautiful.           Welcome Home.           This morning the world was so quiet and warm. When I slipped into your bedroom, I tried to be as silent as I could. You were a mess, your hair all tossed and your face all wrinkled up in the sheets. I laid down next to you as gently as I could, wrapping my arm over you just as lightly. Your breathing was so deep and you were so warm, I almost fell asleep right there beside you, even with my socked feet hanging off your bed.           But the best part of my morning was brushing my fingertips so carefully across your face. You took your first intentional breath of the day, and I got to see it. Then you opened those beautiful doe eyes of yours. You smiled at me.           Today, it’s a toothy grin full of both baby and big-kid teeth, but its the grin I love most in the world.             We ate breakfast together, watching your favorite cartoon. Afterward, you told me you wanted to choose your own clothes and
Read more