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A blast of wind grates its weight
across our church's slate roof, tugs
at the stained glass windows. And just at
this moment a wild morning sun blazes
through the nave like a signal, blessing
the altar, lighting the preacher's face.
And I remember the ancient story--
about a sacred wind that carried Your
hot breath. A wildfire, it licked
the heads of the locals, formed words,
spread in a conflagration of gospel speech,
grew until whole languages roared
beyond all borders.
Strike our dull matches. Light us today
even if our dark wicks only flicker in a corner.
Translate our lives into Your words.
ARTWORK Fúster, José, 1946-. God of Grace, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt University Divinity Library, Nashville, TN
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