Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Tag: Waiting on God

The soul’s nest | From an Old Soul

July 22 – 23, Diary of an Old Soul

Sometimes, perhaps, the spiritual blood runs slow,
And soft along the veins of will doth flow,
Seeking God’s arteries from which it came.
Or does the ethereal, creative flame
Turn back upon itself, and latent grow?—
It matters not what figure or what name,
If thou art in me, and I am not to blame.

In such God-silence, the soul’s nest, so long
As all is still, no flutter and no song,
Is safe. But if my soul begin to act
Without some waking to the eternal fact
That my dear life is hid with Christ in God—
I think and move a creature of earth’s clod,
Stand on the finite, act upon the wrong.

George MacDonald, Diary of an Old Soul
Augsburg Fortress Press 1994

Soul-weariness. I know it well. A kind of spiritual torpor. Listlessness. Is it sloth? Maybe. I’m not sure. It creates hunger in me. Hunger to trace down the source of this lassitude, this inability to move within my spirit for or against anything.

Sometimes I try to ‘make it happen.’ Searching for anything that will jolt my connection with God and with others. Wake me up. Give me a reason to live, a reason to write, a sense of contentment or even happiness.

I know my life is ‘hid with Christ in God,’ but it’s hidden so well that I can’t seem to find it right now. Is this depression? World-weariness? Older age seeping into my veins? Molasses running cool instead of warm?

Where’s the fire I long to feel? Am I burning out? Are my best days behind me? Is it going to be like this forever?

I can think of a thousand ways of describing it. But none of it takes me anywhere.

All I know is that God dwells in me no matter how I feel right now. I don’t blame God, and I can’t blame myself. This is just the way it is right now. Like it or not.

In fact, this is a pretty restful place. “God-silence.” A bit like Sabbath rest. Is God resting too? I like the idea of being a little bird in God’s nest. I like being here, not worrying about where the worms are coming from for my next meal, or what I’ll do today. God seems to be taking care of that…so far. I think I’ll take a little nap.

On the other hand, I wonder what it would be like to leave the nest.

I have an idea! I could practice my flutters for a few days, and learn to sing a little bird song! I’m sure God wouldn’t mind if I take a tiny solo flight to spread cheer and good will. It would really perk me up to know I’m making a difference!

What did you just say? I shouldn’t do this? I don’t belong to myself? My life isn’t my own? And if I do something impulsive like this, I’m just “a creature of earth’s clod?” Made out of a lifeless lump of clay? About to crash-land?

What do you know about it? Who do you think you are? God?

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 28 November 2015

Strange creatures | From an Old Soul

In this sonnet, George MacDonald is in a state of terror. The moans and screams are more than enough to keep his imagination working overtime. He seems lost in one of his fairy tales for children, uncertain what’s going on.

July 2

It must be, somewhere in my fluttering tent,
Strange creatures, half tamed only yet, are pent—
Dragons, lop-winged birds, and large-eyed snakes!
Hark! through the storm the saddest howling breaks!
Or are they loose, roaming about the bent,
The darkness dire deepening with moan and scream?—
My Morning, rise, and all shall be a dream.

George MacDonald, Diary of an Old Soul
© 1994 Augsburg Fortress Press

Before I comment, here are a few terms that may not be familiar to everyone.

  • pent – a verb used with an object (here the strange creatures). Normally it means confined for safekeeping.
  • lop-winged birds – birds with large floppy wings, especially those that have long, skinny legs that flop around in the air as they fly. Think, for example, of herons and cranes.
  • large-eyed snakes – snakes with eyes (sometimes heads, as well) larger than their long, thin bodies, able to see you in the dark perhaps?
  • the bent – stiff grass, a moor, or grassy land used as a pasture.

Though MacDonald seems to be lost in one of his fairy tales, he’s also praying. These sonnets are addressed to God. The fairy tales aren’t irrelevant, but hearing this as a prayer may be a good place to start. I hear him expressing something like this:

Don’t You hear these horrific beasts in my tent? That would be the ‘tent’ that’s already torn to shreds and flapping around in the wind! It seems someone has locked them up in here with me. What a nightmare! Then again, they could very well be lurking out there in the fields, just waiting to devour me! 

No, I’m not making this up! Even with that wretched wind storm, I still hear them howling their heads off. 

Can’t You do something? You’re the Morning Star! All You need to do is just show up. That’s all! They’ll be gone in a heartbeat! Hello? Are You still there?

I hear something like that—a mix of terror and faith. Here are a few observations and questions.

  • In MacDonald’s fairy tales for children, strange, even enemy-like creatures often appear. Sometimes the challenge is to befriend them. But not always. Discernment is important.
  • The ‘strange creatures’ here are as yet ‘half-tamed only.’ Does this suggest they could be or are on their way to being fully tamed? Right now they seem untameable. But….? I don’t know.
  • MacDonald sometimes tames the strange creatures in his fairy tales by coming to understand them, not by magic. What are their strengths? Their personalities? What does their shape and behavior suggest about them? For what might they have been created—if, that is, they aren’t manufactured by our fear and aren’t evil creatures.

MacDonald doesn’t have answers. He seems to be flailing around without a narrative or direction that would make sense of what he’s experiencing.

He also seems perfectly willing to have these strange creatures disappear into thin air when he wakes up in the morning and realizes his terror was ‘all a dream.’ But was it?

What does MacDonald mean by ‘My Morning’? Perhaps it’s as simple as a new day that will bring light, and relief from night terrors and fears. On the other hand, perhaps ‘My Morning’ refers to God.

In either case, what will happen with the strange creatures? Will they be banished? Or will he learn something about himself by learning about them? Especially those parts of his life that seem too scary to face, even though they may be half-tamed.

Like the July 1 sonnet, this seems also to end with a question that only God can answer. In that case, it’s right to pound on the door, insisting that God attend to him as one of God’s beloved sons and daughters.

One thing is clear: MacDonald isn’t going to figure this out on his own.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 15 July 2015