"Sun of my soul, thou Savior dear,
it is not night if thou be near:
O may no earth-born cloud arise
to hide thee from thy servant's eyes."
it is not night if thou be near:
O may no earth-born cloud arise
to hide thee from thy servant's eyes."
--John Keble
What is it about poetry that causes my mind to stop its whirling spinning and to hear with my heart? In the same way that music goes to a deeper level into my soul, I believe that poetry touches something intimate and bare in the depths of my being. And when music and poetry collide, as in the stanza shared above, taken from the hymn John Keble wrote, Sun of my Soul, Thou Savior Dear, then my heart drops all of its defenses and peers into eternity.
Or even a re-working of an older hymn as here,
In this Season of Stillness that has begun my 2017, I heard God whisper to me to slow my reading even as my days have slowed. I did not think that I liked that thought! After all, last year, my spinning mind craved words, and I read more books than at any other time in my life. Nevertheless, I followed my Lord's promptings and finished up several books that had been in my Kindle list, and have been working on the reviews that I had promised to share. In the meantime, a lovely blogger who fills her posts with beautiful and encouraging book reviews, put out an invitation to join her in an online book study of C.S. Lewis' Till We Have Faces starting this week, over at her place: Michele Morin's site, Living Our Days.
And that same Whispering Voice stirred in my heart to
know that here would be a place I needed to settle in and rest my
Stilling heart.
I have loved and read many of C.S. Lewis' books, and in fact had borrowed this very title from a dear friend several years ago. He encouraged me to read it, and hold onto it for as long as I wanted, because he felt it was such an important read for me. I don't know why I kept putting it off, but perhaps God knew that I needed to be in this place of stillness before I would be able to hear the poetry that Lewis' words would ignite in my soul. This is a retelling of the Cupid and Psyche myth, C.S. Lewis' own favorite of all of his books, and one that has already swept me up into his epic storytelling.
The two main princesses in this tale, Orual and Psyche, are revealed within the first chapter. The Greek slave, "The Fox," bought by their father to be their teacher, is however, the one who stole my heart in the beginning pages. One who professed much of the Philosophies and Rational thinking, he had a poetic side that was actually the heart he followed. Early on, he shares a Greek myth with Orual, and is quick to add:
"Not that this ever really happened. . . . It's only lies of poets, lies of poets child."
Orual saw behind his facade and spoke:
"It was always like that with the Fox; he was ashamed of loving poetry ('All folly, child') and I had to work much at my reading and writing and what he called philosophy in order to get a poem out of him. But thus, little by little, he taught me many. Virtue, sought by man with travail and toil was the one he praised most, but I was never deceived by that. The real lilt came into his voice and the real brightness into his eyes when we were off into Take me to the apple-land or
"Not that this ever really happened. . . . It's only lies of poets, lies of poets child."
Orual saw behind his facade and spoke:
"It was always like that with the Fox; he was ashamed of loving poetry ('All folly, child') and I had to work much at my reading and writing and what he called philosophy in order to get a poem out of him. But thus, little by little, he taught me many. Virtue, sought by man with travail and toil was the one he praised most, but I was never deceived by that. The real lilt came into his voice and the real brightness into his eyes when we were off into Take me to the apple-land or
The Moon's gone down, but
Alone I lie."
And, suddenly, in only the first chapter, my heart of Stillness was beating with a longing for more of the intimate words that poetry stirs.
Why is it so hard for me to
still my mind
even as my body
has been stilled?
Why have I "allowed myself"
to savor the sweet fragrance
of poetry
only as I lie awake at night
longing to find peace?
What if this very
stillness
is the place
that God's true
Poetry of Love
can be
tasted?
"But the closer I am to You, my God, the better because life with You is good.
O Lord, the Eternal, You keep me safe—
I will tell everyone what You have done."
Psalm 73:28 (The Voice)
God Moves in a Mysterious Way, by William Cowper
still my mind
even as my body
has been stilled?
Why have I "allowed myself"
to savor the sweet fragrance
of poetry
only as I lie awake at night
longing to find peace?
What if this very
stillness
is the place
that God's true
Poetry of Love
can be
tasted?
"But the closer I am to You, my God, the better because life with You is good.
O Lord, the Eternal, You keep me safe—
I will tell everyone what You have done."
Psalm 73:28 (The Voice)
God Moves in a Mysterious Way, by William Cowper
"God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs
And works His sovereign will.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.
Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain."
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs
And works His sovereign will.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.
Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain."
Have you tasted a sweet gift of Poetry lately? Or perhaps you have a favorite work by C.S. Lewis? I would love to hear your comments as you share your thoughts! And even though I feel that I may be "out of my element" by joining in with an Online Book Discussion Group while being such a Newbie to this world of Blogging, my Stilling Heart is longing to hear the poetic sharing about such a great storyteller as C.S. Lewis.
Here is an index for the series on C.S. Lewis' "TILL WE HAVE FACES" book study. Within each post, I have included the link for that week's discussion led by Michele Morin at her site.
Post 1: The Stillness of Poetry
Post 2: The Holiness of Grace
Post 3: Breath of God
Post 4: Eternity in our Hearts and in our Eyes
Post 5: Love or Self?
Post 6: Surprised by Love
Post 7: Unlocking the Heart
Post 8: Die Before You Die
Post 9: The Face of Love
Here is an index for the series on C.S. Lewis' "TILL WE HAVE FACES" book study. Within each post, I have included the link for that week's discussion led by Michele Morin at her site.
Post 1: The Stillness of Poetry
Post 2: The Holiness of Grace
Post 3: Breath of God
Post 4: Eternity in our Hearts and in our Eyes
Post 5: Love or Self?
Post 6: Surprised by Love
Post 7: Unlocking the Heart
Post 8: Die Before You Die
Post 9: The Face of Love
I am linking this week over at
