Be Full of Images of Divine Things

Let me be honest.

I love poetry. God has granted humanity the ability to use language in such a way to shape our mind and hearts. As you look in Scripture you will notice that poetry shows up often. One preacher noticed that the first words from Adam recorded in Scripture contained a poetic form (Genesis 2:23). This leads me to believe that the use of language and image are important to humanity, or at least they should be. The combination of language and image are at the heart of poetry. It pulls at our minds as we dive into the richness of metaphor and simile. Though we must admit that sometimes we don’t understand the image being expressed. For most people this is what is frustrating about this type of genre. But the fact is, that’s ok. That’s the beauty of language. In poetry the author can say one thing but mean two different things. The author can mix metaphor. Poetry aims to impact the soul, the mind, and the heart. Language stirs emotion and passion. Why? Because this is part of our human expereince. We desire this type of response. I am reminded of this scene from The Dead Poets Society (

In light of this I’ve attempted to write poetry for a few years. I say attempted because I’m learning the art of language. Here is a poem I’ve written for Easter. The theme of the poem is taken from a Jonathan Edwards quote. So I hope you enjoy:

Be Full of Images of Divine Things

I believe that the whole universe, heaven and earth, air and seas…be full of images of divine things… – Jonathan Edwards

The changing of a season from life to death to life again narrates the divine drama.

As the leaf withers and dies our world is hissing the Edenic curse through its forked tongue as it prepares its grave.

The cold hard ground suffocates the multicellular organisms that gives life showing the reprobation of the Elect One.

Subjected to wrath and corruption the One the universe perceives tells of amazing pity, grace unknown and love beyond degree.

A rotting corpse begins to wreak of decay as it announces Eden’s havoc on earth, and body, and soul, and mind.

Frozen ponds are like catacombs that suck the marrow from the bones and vomits its death on the bank to let the ravens feed.

It lies, waits, for its resurrection it waits, and longs for life it longs, and yearns for freedom it yearns, and longs for redemption.

Springing forth to new life as the heart of creation is resuscitated and breathes deeply the Spirit of Life as the shackles of death could no longer hold.

The ground contracts with the pangs of birth as it pushes with all its might to resurrect the tulip from the ground as it experiences newborn life.

The dungeon is filled with light in the prison of winter past as the valley of bones begin to sing and laugh and dance.

Death, oh death, oh Grave we sing the triumphant song of victory and live the life of the redeemed as we hail the Risen King.

Creation sings the song of Life, in earth, in sky, in sea and proclaims the Story of Wonder and preaches Divine Things

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