The air in London is turning cool and crisp, even in midday. Quite pleasant to sit in the coolness allowing the rays of sunlight to warm me. The leaves have begun to show it. They’ve turned to bright yellows and deep oranges. Trees turning from top down, the color filtering through the green. The flowers around them are striving to their final vibrant kick of color before they pass away.
It’s everywhere.
In the fantastic blue sky, the clouds as they travel on by. In the ancient brick on which the museums, flats, and churches sit. Yes, churches sit. In the latte in which I sip. In the pigeons who collectively fly away to swoop around a tree only to land right where they took off, twice.
This autumn day is full of it. Echoes of children playing in the fields. Murmurs from the people resting on the wood surrounding. It’s around them. Some share in it, but most of London have no idea it’s here.
That He’s here.
Like the autumn leaves and flowers, their own glory will shortly last and quickly fade. Death swoops in as a black-feathered crow, starting with one, but then swiftly overruns. Death’s swoop came long ago, lasting through the ages. For how long, I don’t know. But, sin’s sting, it breaks and rages.
His beauty out lasts death’s fatal swoop, in fact, He stands having conquered it. He’s here, even as death takes, showing Himself to London town. His grace and love is all around. Everywhere I look His Glory found. His Light, the sound, even the yellowy-orange falling to the ground.
But they miss Him.
Glory so easily seen, yet, so easily missed. So simple, also complex. Darkness constantly creeping, always deceiving, until the day Light puts him away. The crow will sound as darkness cries; his reign in this town finally dies. For winter is about to begin, ice and short days do invade. Not before His Spirit dwells within, redeeming souls before they fade.
Some have found, God’s Glory around.
The Lord reviving London town, calling warriors to proclaim in Jesus name, to be witnesses of His love profound, the whisper of salvation turned into a trumpeting fame.
Worship. Yes Church, worship His Glorious Name.
Forgiveness, peace, and grace He provides, for all these broken and tormented lives. His Spirit overwhelms inside, as He starts to rise. Filling up and overflowing. Rushing out as a spring, a miraculous stream, bursting at my seams. The Truth, the Truth of Jesus, changing everything.
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Look who is the poet and didn't even know it?
ReplyDeleteAwesome writing Seth, Awesome!/D