A Balm in Gilead

The brokenness in our world is astonishing.  There are broken systems, broken marriages, broken bodies, broken promises, broken relationships, broken people.  Not a day goes by that we are not touched by the brokenness of another or made keenly aware of our own heartbreak.

“For the hurt of my poor people I am hurt, I mourn, and dismay has taken hold of me.  Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Why then has the health of my poor people not been restored?” (Jeremiah 8.21-22).

We have seen the light yet walked in paths of darkness.  We have sung of life and danced with death.  We have deep wounds and calloused hearts, and are securely bound.

All eyes on him, he takes the scroll in hand.  “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor" (Luke 4.18-19).

There is a balm in Gilead.  

Isaiah 11.1

What follows felling?

Cracked branches, rot,

ripped canopy revealing

clouds of day

   and stars of night,

moss-covered stump with

fingers clutching earth.

Dead stillness,

   damp organic scent,

decay encroaching. 

   Nothing living

left the eye can see. 

   But life

surprises with tenacity.

Hid underground and nourished

by design, life’s whisper

creeps toward the sky and

testifies—

The dead will rise.

The Numinous

My whole life I have been forced to confront the numinous—the crisp blue of a cloudless sky, music’s playful harmonies, the stark silhouette of a leafless tree against the night sky, the mysteries of love and friendship.  And these produce in me not only a deep sense of gratitude, but also the conviction that the One to whom I am indebted is aware of my gratitude and takes pleasure in it. 

--cm