And on the sixth day...

The first thing I know is the rush of Wind. A glimmering green kaleidoscope blinks in, out, and into lush leafy focus, as another gentle breeze hurries away the remnant tendrils of sleep from my eyes. Pushing up from a feathery cradle of soft grass, I feel the smooth motion of a well-designed craft, of muscles, tendons, and bone engaging obligingly. I inhale deeply, ushering God breath through clear new lungs, and take in the earthy fragrance rising from the warm rich soil sifting between my toes. I turn slow circles at the center of the clearing, the foliage teeming with pulsating movement - everything absurdly…alive. Good. This is a world created to ceaselessly, simultaneously intrigue and awe my senses. This is the spontaneous expression of Glory.

God saw all that He had made, and behold, it was very good. And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day.

Something is different at this hour. My ears thrill at a swell of sound, a crescendo through the trees - the music of a thousand hooves pounding the earth, a thousand wings vibrating the air, a thousand fins in the sea - moving purposefully towards me. Electrical energy courses through the entirety of my body as the first creature approaches. Ponderous paws, sinewy legs rippling up into regal sunburst mane, piercing feline eyes. The breathy atmosphere was densely waiting, pregnant with expectation. From a guttural growl from deep within my chest, a word resounds up through my throat and springs full-bodied from my lips into the air. The collision of deliberate word with its deliberated being affirmed both the lion and the speaker. It was meant to have a name. A name connotes definition, identity, an other-ness. The possibility of relationship. I felt the supreme pleasure of an Other both new yet terrifyingly ancient.

And then. Likeness. Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bones. We.

Naked, yet extravagantly vested. Free, yet distinctly bound to a single purpose: 

Insatiable curiosity. 

And I saw that it was good too.

—-

From his first breath, I think man worshiped. Worshiped by being. And through the fullness of being, engaged the rest of the created world in active enjoyment and allowed himself to be amazed. Obviously, our current world doesn’t come close to the perfection that was presented to Adam and Eve. I would even venture to say that their worship came easier than it does for us nowadays. For them, it was a natural reaction evoked by a vision - the vision framed by pure eyes that looked unhindered on God Himself. The bindings of our fallen nature often cloud and turn our sights elsewhere for purpose and satisfaction. We take for granted, devalue, and exploit creation instead of cultivate and keep. Yet, as removed as we are from that perfect garden, worship is still key to understanding the nature of our original intended relationship with the Father and then in its course, with humanity and the rest of creation. It is at the root, manifestation, and end of our truly grasping the fullness of life that was promised and restored with the person of Christ.

What happens when we live life with the explicit purpose of worshiping our King? What would happen when we harness all that He says we are  - witnesses to and reflections of His character and all His expressions? 

We were not made to see and not be moved.

There nests our deep cathartic yearning to capture, distill, create, enjoy, affirm - a naming with our souls - the way our Maker designed us. 

Let us come alive.

Starting a creative blog! One of my ways to enjoy. :)