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Lying Down

 What if I lie down in a green pasture? Not a sward of tended grass, but a scruffy field of clover and wildflowers, past its early summer glory. I am on my own. Only me and the distant sounds of traffic and occasional aeroplanes, and the pylon with the kite string cables anchoring it to earth. 

I turn away from the metal and wires, so all I can see is wide field rimmed by forest. I am strangely reluctant to sit down. I will get wet. Some dog walker might see me. When I do, cross legged like a child, I feel at home. This is a place I belong. I want to lie down. Again it takes an effort of will to hook up my hood and lay back on the earth. An action out of the ordinary does not come easily.

The ground is hard under my head, so solid beneath my back. I find I belong here, breathing in smells of crushed grass and soil. A wind begins on the other side of the field; the sound of leaves is rushing, flickering, like a river. It moves across to the forest behind me. I am surrounded by the sound of wind but, low in the clover, I can’t feel it. Ruach? Is this what it is like at Pentecost? Someone, All Powerful, Other than me. 

Somehow, I have been left with the impression that it is my job to conjure up the power to live life, through actions or choices, or even prayer, or who knows what. I’m glad to find it isn’t true. God is not dependent on me. 

I realise I am still reluctant to fully relax. My ankles are crossed, my arms folded over my chest. Deliberately, I lay my elbows on the ground and uncross my feet. It feels like an act of surrender. I am choosing to be vulnerable. I open my eyes and see a tiny insect on a blade of grass against the sky. This scented earth, hard under my body, is a planet. I am lying here, orbiting a star in a galaxy, and my father Creator, my brother Jesus, who also lay on the earth and put one foot and another down as he walked her, Holy Spirit who is in all and fills all, know I am here, knows I am here. 

A red kite drifts over to investigate. I’d like to rise on wings like an eagle, lifted by that I cannot see.

The ground is so solid, so firm and hard, and aeons old, and held in God’s hand. With me. I am Known. 

And absolutely not in charge. 

Phew. 

Comments

  1. Anonymous2 October 2024 at 13:44

    Wow. I understand that reluctance to relax fully into the hold of the Father, the shepherd, the one who holds us in the palm of His hands.

    ReplyDelete

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