holding this stone (it symbolizes my burden, my sin)
walking, trudging down the wide path
a mist hangs low across the way extending into the forest
concealing leaves and hiding trees.
in silence we move through the deep holes
and ruts in the road that have filled with rain water
over night and each step is harder than the one before.
and each step takes me, takes us all, one step closer
to the pit, where the fire lives and breaths and heats
the stones and the ground and the air around it.
i am convinced that the rock i am clutching
is harder, colder than the ones my brothers have
but i guess we all feel that way…
it’s too heavy for me to carry very far.
the edges are rough, sometimes sharp,
the color of it is speckled with white but
mostly dark, and too big to bury.
i have brought my Bible along…
the Holy Word of God is dangling from a black strap.
when my muscles start to rebel against the weight
of the rock, my first thought is that if i didn’t have
my Bible to carry then it would be easier to balance
my burden in my arms. the next thought makes
more sense because it comes from a better source:
that if i wasn’t holding onto my sin so tight
then it would be easier to carry my Bible…
my breath comes in ragged gasps and is visible
as steam that mixes with the smoke from the fire
until the wind takes them both and blows them higher.
ashes of gray and white like tiny fragile pieces of dreams
consumed in the little inferno fade like mementos
of what things used to be like way back when…
and when my rock, my burden, finally gets too heavy
to hold? any normal person would just let go.
but i do not. i hold it closer, closer to my center, my core,
in a vain attempt to make it more bearable because
i am strong enough, i can handle this…right?
now i have mud on my jacket,
my sin colors every surface, every line of my life.
and when i finally lay it down my hands are still covered
by mud…now everything i touch is made dirty.
so there’s another step to this process, this progress:
Jesus does not only want me to lay down my sin,
my burden, but He wants to cleanse me thoroughly
in the fire of His fervent love and the water of His grace.
and i turn my face to the cross, to the trees, to the sky,
maybe the reason why He loves me so much
will never be plain
(or even why He considers me a masterpiece)
but i welcome the grace that
falls on my skin and fills my soul
like the gentle yet steady rain.
jbh 10.29.2011
