Still Point, Worship, The Turning World

Time and the bell have buried the day,                                                               The black cloud carries the sun away.                                                                  Will the sunflower turn to us, will the clematis                                          Stray down, bend to us; tendril and spray                                                   Clutch and cling?                                                                                                             Chill

Fingers of yew be curled                                                                                         Down on us?   After the kingfisher’s wing                                                       Has answered light to light, and is silent, the light is still                          At the still point of the turning world.

[T.S.Eliot, Four Quarters; Burnt Norton: IV]

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When you find a room of light, enter it often.

If you turn a corner into silence and contemplative peace, do not abandon it but go there, be there, be. In silence.

There is a still point where, when all is chaos around you, stillness abides and the words of God lap like waves at the turning of the world.

This point, this refuge, this peace, is found in the repose of worship. Not always. But the probabilities are such that you might risk getting to that place.

For words of God are like pearls. Find these. String them together. Wear them around your wrist, your arm, your neck. For everything passes but the Word of God remains. Ever and always.

See you Sunday.