Wednesday, November 17, 2010. . .
THE WRITING. . .Story moving right along. This is the main course of the novel-writing meal; talking about it would be like getting up from the dinner table, going into another room and describing the grilled salmon with the lemon-Dijon-tarragon sauce. Neither I nor the listener would get to eat.
THE DETAILS. . .Theological discourse by Sally…
Monthly praise service tonight, led by Miss Angel Voice, to whom I could listen for hours. I don’t have the technically appropriate words to describe her voice. All I know is that it moves me to silence and I love to sing.
I do. Despite the Second Grade Teacher at Franklin Elementary who made me sing out loud in front of the class and then gave me a C in music.
My favorite line of the dozen songs we sang tonight? Heaven meets earth like a sloppy wet kiss (John Mark McMillan, “How He Loves,” copyright 2005).
It reminds me of Rob Bell’s rendition of the name of God. We heard him speak once at a bookstore in Denver and he described God telling Moses His name. “Yahweh.” Say that without any vowel sounds and you get the sound of breaths.
That’s how close He is to us.
I’ve recently been pondering God’s immanence (His presence everywhere, within us and around us) and God’s transcendence (His out-there-ness). So tonight I’m singing this line “heaven meets earth like a sloppy wet kiss.” I’m imagining heaven is the same as God’s presence.
Meaning His presence in the here and now as he greets earth which I see as humans and all creation. And His greeting us is like a sloppy wet kiss?
That’s close. Really, really close.