Dark Glass Ponderings

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. -1 Corinthians 13:12

My eyes scan the shoreline.  Through the oil lamp I search the faces, vapidly staring....Zecharias, Isaiah, Joseph. Joking, laughing, talking at the speed of lightning.  In a trance I smile hollowly, waving broadly, greeting each.  I knew them in another life.  Zecharias,  my brother Andrew and I used to run and play by the creek on sun-braised afternoons.  Isaiah, Joseph, and I would swap yarns before I met Truth.  Watching them trolling I knew each was pleased, enough to feed the family and some to spare.  

What am I doing here?  I cast my hook on the water as the last few days cross my mind.  Reliving each blow in my mind, the boat rocks and stirs in my disturbance.  I rub my rope-burned hands and hear the thunderous roar of men at the docks reeling in the boats.  Each shout becoming a taunt.  It was as if the whole world was stagnant, but everything had been torn apart.  Somehow I hoped that fishing would be safe.

My heart burned watching the men cooking the multitude of fish over a fire.  Mere days ago I denied I knew You as I warmed my feet and hands.  This multitude of fish meager as I remembered a meal by the shore.  Was this all another lifetime? 

I returned for comfort, yet I feel more out of place than ever.  I'm left pondering words I don't understand.  Wondering does it even matter.  My friends and I yak about meaningless nothings as we wait for our vision to come back into focus.  I drift in and out of consciousness hearing my friends words and His words jumbled in my mind.  

"Children, have you any food?"  Dawn was just breaking over the sea.  I looked around watching dozens of ships pulling nets into the dock.  While I had fallen asleep on the watch I had somehow hoped that my friends would be able to pull something in.  This man told us to cast on the other side of the ship.  What good would that do?? '

"Its the Lord!" John turned to me.  Overwhelmed with joy I merely jumped.  Swimming through the sea of forgetfulness. Embraced by perfect disfigurement.  

Follow Me.  Follow Me.  Echoing through my heart. 

Inspired by John 21:1-10

Yugoslavian poet Charles Simic once said, "Poetry is an orphan of silence.  The words never quite equal the experience behind them."

Never could this be more true than when writing about the holiest and most revered of books, The Holy Bible.  I'm continually reminded through the word that my vision is so infinitismal.  Voltaire once said poetry is the music of the soul.  So this blog is an attempt to capture the hymns my heart has written to my Lover, Savior and King.  For when our minds and hearts are captivated by the beauty of our Living Lord we must spill it out...whether the instrument we use to praise our Lord is harp, canvas, the human tongue, or the computer screen.

Lately as I read I've been pondering so many of the flawed people God chose to use in His Word.  How intriguing it might be to peruse their personal journals.  I suspect many might prefer their true thoughts hidden under a locked tome.  As many of us hide our true selves behind shadows fearful of allowing others to see the reality of our broken lives.

I suspect in each of them we would  find more than a kernel of our own realities.  Like Peter I find myself sinfully comparing my reality to that of someone else.  Like David I find poetry is a means for expressing my heart to God.  Like Moses I have allowed doubt of God's purposes to creep in out of my own fear.  Like Mary Magdalene I have known what it means to drink of Christ's deep forgiveness.

I desire Reflections Through a Tinted Mirror to be my instrument to worship my Creator.  As I wait for the time when I will see in full, understand in full...I ponder the Lover of my Soul's words.

Julia M. Reffner

About Me

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Christ-loving bookworm & homeschool mom of 2 stealing the rare quiet moments to pursue that all elusive writing dream. I also write book reviews for Title Trakk and The Historical Novel Society.


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