There are times of contemplation that result in visions and erupt in worship. These are the best of times: those unharnessed moments, untamed and fierce – where you hold on to the wave, only to wonder and ponder this Holy Wild. This is prayer, as John Cassian would put it,
“[Creating] a fiery outbreak, an indescribable exaltation, an insatiable thrust of the soul. Free of what is sensed and seen, ineffable in its groans and sighs, the soul pours itself out to God.”
A prayer like this is sensory and imaginative as it snatches for something of whom it holds. Though we seize little by virtue of our little hands, we nevertheless grasp “fistfuls of grace.” And we love to be rolled into the wonder of it all, the peels of thunder, the breaking waves, the full force of a mighty power.
A Vision of Holiness
And it rolls
Like peels of thunder,
Like breaking waves,
Like crests of fire;
It undulates just above our heads.
And into the liquid fire raise our hands.
They become holy
Grasping fistfuls of grace,
Picking grapes of wrath.
Rise. Rise into the fearful power
The terrible beauty
The wonder of His holiness.
April 12/99 inspired by The Message rendition of Psalm 68:35