Deliverance. I was at a loss about what to write since it feels that these days the womb baby takes up all the space and pushes out anything he/she deems superfluous. But fortunately God squeezed in one word for us to digest like our trusty folic acid. Apt for us both, as my post from Pentecost Sunday, A Conversion, describes the pivotal hour of life in this body in which I was delivered from evil; and the baby will be, any day now, delivered into this world. “We would not, brethren, have you ignorant of our trouble which came to us in Asia, that we were pressed out of measure, above strength, insomuch that we despaired even of life: But we had the sentence of death in ourselves, that we should not trust in ourselves, but in God which raiseth the dead: Who delivered us from so great a death, and doth deliver: in whom we trust that he will yet deliver us.” 2 Corinthians 1:8-10
I think of my college boyfriend, how we would be in Sage Hall at 2am, me practicing violin études and him blowing into that damn euphonium. Oh, how our instrumentation was profoundly off! Still we’d go into the practice room with the grand piano and make love underneath it thinking it all so romantic, but really, who were we kidding? There were always tears afterward: it was fucking. Not love. God never wills this for his children, lost or not. Yet, yet… (I’ll address him for a minute) How God has since moved me to love you and your beautiful wife and your baby boy… Brotherly love: how it has become something edifying, as even if you don’t believe in Christ or that the Holy Spirit redeemed my life while in Asia, it is impossible not to feel our prayers for your family.
O Lord, give us the means to worship you!
That our devotion may be sacrosanct poetry
And that we may not hope to convince others that You
Or that I, exist;
But that our love for one another does.
Let them not dwell on our corporeal eyes,
But let them glimpse our spiritual tears.
If they cannot hear the words,
Then let them know what they feel like.
© 2016, Amaya Engleking