My Favorite Church

I can’t stop marveling at the Altar Of Creation

lately, when I need to pray

I go to the church that 
has no doors

and where the walls are made of carved granite ~ 

I sit under it’s moving roof
on a pew that smells 
like fresh pine 

and fold my hands quietly until God joins me ~ 

here in this most ancient of churches,
I watch a dozen fat rainbow angel dressed
as trout dance in the baptismal font

and wonder when I too will be made anew ~

there is a special kind of holy quiet here 
that rings much louder than any fat 
church bell I have ever known

and the silence often rattled my ribs ~ 

it’s choir loft is high up in a birds nest 
and it’s confessional is a breeze 
that asks me to speak my sins

and I do, and then they are carried away ~ 

the longer I sing psalms in this church
the shorter my memory for all of 
my past mistakes become 

and that is when I hear 
the voice of Love speak to me

“oh tired light, oh wounded heart, 
oh my child of crumbling grace,
come plant your feet in this Eden, 
come rest in this sacred space

oh weary traveler, oh somber fire,
oh shaking heart that is prone to fear,
come lay in My ribboned water
come to fully know that I’m right here

oh wilting daisy, oh dying star
oh broken song that needs a name, 
come sit with Me among the wild,
and then you’ll never be the same “

God and I take turns 
saying all we need to say
to each other 

I speak in short heavy jagged breaths
and the Divine replies in thin long pauses

this goes on until the sun begins to set ~

that’s when it’s time to leave 
and even though I go home
I’m always still there 

in the antiquated church
of trees and valleys

where foxes are lectors 
where horizons are steeples
where clouds are vestibules
where campfires are incense 
where time is a gospel 
where the great flow is a sacrament
where forests are community 

where a little piece of me always still remains
talking to the voice of whispering Love 
as I watch trout be slain in the spirit 

and I can’t stop marveling at the altar of creation 

~ john roedel 

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Come Explore The Wilderness Of Your Heart!

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