Golden

Everyone uses the word golden

And I don’t want to

But I think

I have to

Because that’s just the way sunshine is.

I see golden light.

Still.

Warm.

Gentle.

I see stones and arches.

I see covered heads

And clean hands

And stained hearts

And beards

And readiness.

I see a visitor.

One familiar

And known

And yet different

And things have been

Said

But he looks so

Safe

And everything in

You

Leans toward

Him.

And I see

Normal begin

But

Something feels

Different

And

It has to be because of

Him.

I see the scroll placed in

His hands

And his mouth opens

And his heart opens

And there is

So

Much

Life.

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.

The words.

They were meant to be said by him.

He fills them

And shapes them

And owns them

And resurrects them

And plants them so deep.

You’ve read them before. Heard them before.

But his voice

Is golden.

Still.

Warm.

Gentle.

Like sunshine.

The hard things that you keep

Tucked away

Inside

Feel like they want to

Melt.

 

From Luke 4:16-20. A lot can be imagined about four verses. I wish I could have heard Human Jesus’ voice.  I love the thought of Jesus’ voice. As powerful as written words can be, there is something about spoken word that is just captivating. I think Jesus must have been the master of spoken word. Not that he phrased everything artistically and vaguely and profoundly. Just that he did it, you know- perfectly. I think he had the kind of voice that you could listen to forever. Come to think of it… He still does.