For a long time I have held my peace,A swallow lands on the growing bush in the rock face. All alone it looks to be sitting, watching, guarding. Then another bird lands, its mate. Paired for life. Never to be alone for long. They play. Flying back and forth. Seeking a cooler spot, a bit of food. Stretching their wings, they fly and return. One never leaving the branch for long.
I have kept still and restrained myself;
now I will cry out like a woman in labor, I will gasp and pant.
I will lay waste mountains and hills, and dry up all their herbage;
I will turn the rivers into islands, and dry up the pools.
I will lead the blind by a road they do not know,
by paths they have not known I will guide them.
I will turn the darkness before them into light,
the rough places into level ground.
These are the things I will do, and I will not forsake them.
They shall be turned back and utterly put to shame
— those who trust in carved images,
who say to cast images, "You are our gods." Isaiah 42:14-17
This idyllic scene happens were the forest seems to be reclaiming more and more of the rock face along the river. Into this scene comes the powerful image of God, the warrior, God the mother.
God is crying out like a woman in labor. Panting, gasping, screaming, knowing the new is going to come, but the change is painful, agonizing. In order to lead the blind to the light, on the path yet unknown – some death, destruction and pain comes first.
We are the blind, unable to see the ways we have destroyed and killed for the present without a plan of redemption. Next to me is a tree. It appears that lightening has struck it, causing the tree to decay. Yet at the very base of the tree a new tree has started to grow from the death there is new life. In the pain of old is born the new.
We know Holy One that you will not forsake us. You are creating a path, a road we have not known that leads us out of the darkness and into your marvelous light. Amen.