The great state of Tex-afornia

As Kingfishers Catch Fire

As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell's
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves -- goes itself; _myself_ it speaks and spells,
Crying _What I do is me: for that I came_.

I say more: the just man justices;
Keeps grace: that keeps all his goings graces;
Acts in God's eye what in God's eye he is --
Christ.
For Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men's faces.

I saw this poem in a book I'm reading by Eugene Peterson. So far the idea of worship as Christ "playing" is an interesting thought to me. We worship in our lives and in our lives become one of "ten thousand places" where Christ plays. It seems much more joyful and intimate than simply us giving God what is due to Him. I'll let you know other thoughts as they pan out.

posted by Kevin @ 1:50 PM