Continuing recent theme of wild places (my big theme at the mo) ... a poem written at a time when the implications of "following Jesus wherever it leads and whatever it costs" were beginning to bite.
Out Here (A Solitary Traveller Speaks) written 10.05.02
I swapped my nets for questions
And traded my home for walking boots.
And now I'm out here.
Some trackless somewhere.
I think you called me, God.
But was I faithful or a fool
to come out here to find you, to follow you?
Won't you calm this moment with an answer?
I came out here too.
I traded my omniscience for an unanswered "Why?",
and universe-creating power for an infant's chubby hands.
I turned my back on golden paradise and huddled in a draughty shed,
and left unbroken fellowship for deep betrayal by a friend.
I drew the blinds on unimaginable radiance
and sank in utter blackness that I had not known …
I came out here too,
But you have no language to apprehend
The wonders I traded for your brittle frame.
You have no intellect to comprehend what I forsook,
What all-surpassingness I laid aside,
What gnawing questions swarmed around my mind,
When I came out here.
To find you.
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