Creed

Every now and again I visit a wonderful place down near Perth called "The Bield". "Bield" is an old Scottish word with resonances of shelter, rest and refuge and it's a great place to go when you need a dirty weekend away with God.

http://www.bieldatblackruthven.org.uk/The%20Bield%20at%20Blackruthven/Welcome.html

As part of the programme, there's the option of attending devotions in the wee chapel, led by the staff, and I always seem to come away with something rich from those times. In the middle of another busy week (are there ever any quiet ones?!) I simply want to post a poem I heard there which has stayed with me ever since. It's by Adrian Plass and it's called 'Creed'.

CREED

I cannot say my creed in words.
How should I spell despair, excitement, joy and grief,
amazement, anger, certainty and unbelief?
What was the grammar of those sleepless nights?
Who the subject? What the object
of a friend who will not come,or does not come?
And then creates his own eccentric special dawn:
a blinding light that does not blind.

Why do I find you in the secret wordless places
where I hide from your eternal light?
I hate you.
I love you.
I miss you.
I wish that you would go,
and yet I know that long ago
you made a fairytale for me:
About the day that you would take your sword
and battle through the thicket of the things I have become.
You’ll kiss to life my sleeping beauty,
waiting for her prince to come.
Then I will wake,
and look into your eyes,
and understand.

And for the first time, I will not be dumb.
And I shall say my creed in words.


Two things I love about that. God's determination to "battle through the thicket of the things I have become", and the prospect of finally, one day, finding the right words.

TODAY'S GLOWING EMBERS OF TRUTH: Know thyself? If I knew myself I'd probably run away....