The Earth is His Holy Place
By Leoma Sparer
Psalm 24: 1 – 7, 10
The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof, the world and those who dwell therein; for he has founded it upon the seas, and established it upon the rivers.
Who shall ascend the hill of the Lord? And who shall stand in his holy place? He who has clean hands and a pure heart, who does not lift up his soul to what is false, and does not swear deceitfully. He will receive blessings from the Lord, and vindication from the God of his salvation. Such is the generation of those who seek him, who seek the face of the God of Jacob. Lift up your heads, O gates! And be lifted up, O ancient doors! That the King of glory may come in. Who is this King of glory? The Lord of hosts, he is the King of Glory!
I love the Psalms, don’t you? Full of seeking and praise, desperate questions, laments and pleas for help, more praise and declarations of faith and love. So very human. The depths of sorrow often followed by unspeakable joy. We can FEEL between the lines what we have also felt and had difficulty finding the words to describe.
April has called me to the North Shore near Cascade State Park more than once. I was just there this year, and I was there in 2012, when I was inspired around midnight to write what turned out to be poetic prose I’ll share below. The words and ideas were repeating in my mind as I was awakened during an ice storm. Actually, it wasn’t April herself who called me. I was seeking closeness with God, giving myself time out of what was then busy family life to be still, listen, pray, meditate and just BE.
Written April 16, 2012, about 12:30 a.m. and April 19 about 6:30 a.m.
Ode to April
April’s wind is gnawing with her icy teeth at the corner of my room. She chews and spits until I imagine her breaking in to nip my nose and tickle my feet.
At midnight I think that I shall awake to see the ponderous pines bearded white and stooping toward the shivering ground, nodding their approval that any form of rain is good. The sun in the morning will do its part to relieve the trees of their heavy beards, revealing crystals of citrine, amethyst and quartz.
For April is no silly fool; she knows that on the North Shore Winter can dig in its claws for one last howl, reminding all of who is king, until gracefully bowing wide to Spring.
For even though her early dabbles of daffodils and crocus have painted strokes of sunlight, it is really May who receives the passing scepter.
Then with bolder caution Miss Showy Ladyslipper contemplates her summer debut for dame June. Thoughts are pulled back to the present moment by April’s fingernails tinkling across my windows. I must go back to only dreaming of warmth and birdsong. The scepter is Winter’s still. Come the morning I am witness to the marriage of frigid Wind and undulating Water. Mistress Lake Superior is pounding her approval upon the altar of basalt rock all along the shore. She sends her voice in unremitting refrain, punctuating rhythmic verses with deep-throated amens. The wedding vows are completed over and over again by the throwing of the bride’s white bouquet, a glorious spray of praises reaching heaven’s ears! I stay and watch the feast until I see this matrimonial table has not been set for me. It will go on without me; my witnessing is done. I’ll go in for a pot of oats!
[Three days later. Written while staying at Cascade Lodge, Lutsen, MN]
The Lady of the Lake is calmer today, quieted by the warm eastern sun chasing crystalline frost from her dark shores. The cascading creek is happily talkative today, telling her story of recent rain. She tumbles all over herself in her rush to share her bounty with Lady Superior. Along the ruffled edges of the shore, though, a slower story is unfolding such that it could easily be missed. Below the cascade’s raucous tune can be heard the humming of a lullaby. It’s a mere whisper breathlessly sounding; it’s the Lady rocking her lovely agates and their spotted cousins back and forth, patiently coaxing their surfaces to smooth softness, teaching them to sing. ‘Tis the loving sigh of a Mother caressing her children.
Psalm 24 helps me express what I experienced that April in 2012 and in my visit this month: the fullness of the earth, of creation. The wonder and beauty, the subtle and the unmissable. I went seeking closeness with God and experienced it in His creation, enfolded, surrounded and filled with energies of unspeakable love. I’m not sure how “clean” my “hands” are, but I did feel full to the brim with blessings.
Thank you to the “King of Glory”!
