Your sacred heart emblazoned in scarlet feathers, a bib of tomato-soup brightness where the embers of the Christ-child’s fire were brushed just in time from your chest. Caught light inside though, where the chambers of love beat loudly, bursting into song that lifts us higher than we know how to be. Beauty given breath from beauty, catching us up into the heavenly realms, a foretaste of flight and joyful worship we can only approach in wonder, sidling towards an understanding like an opera fan listening at the stage door or Moses peeking at God’s glory from a cleft in the rock.
Text and artwork © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt Painting inspired by a reference photo by Paul Green, with kind permission. The text is an excerpt from my book of devotionals, Garden of God’s Heart.
I hope you have enjoyed this Lenten journey through my reflections, photos and art. Here we are on the day of Resurrection, and I wish you a very Happy Easter!
God bless you,
Three Days Later
Blood curdles into the grain
Mixes fresh with old
Responding, the sap sings
Though long dead and now discarded
Roughly hewn and unplaned
Yours the only carpenter’s hands
It has ever known
Sings then, and rises
Green shoots writhing
With untameable life
Curling, encircling the rusting nails
Budding in split beams
Filling the cracks with flowers
Rising from wooden wounds.
Art and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt
You are soft as velvet one moment, and all teeth and talons the next. I cannot tell when we shall see the dove or the eagle, or what will cause the lion to bare his teeth and snarl. Hypocrites seem to do it, or those calling themselves pure and righteous in your sight, when you said that not even you are good, but only the Father. Changeable face, unchanging heart, giving each exactly what is needed.
Art and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2018
All is twisted in your kingdom and in your words. Everything you say challenges what I thought I knew. Certainties not just turned on their heads, but held upside down and shaken until every last coin falls out of their pockets. Your mysterious ways make me dizzy, and your new ways of weaving things together creates patterns unfamiliar to my incredulous eyes.
Art and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2018
Jesus replied, “Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again.”
John 3:3 NIV
Seeing using Scripture is a real spiritual eye-opener, and I’m talking as much about our inner eyes as our outer ones. If our heads and hearts are meditating on the Word of God, we will see it written and painted all around us, and hear and touch it too, maybe even taste it. For all of our senses can be caught up in the wonder of Logos, the living Word, the Cosmic Christ in whom all things hold together. The world is passionate about illustrating kingdom truths to us. God’s glory is sung out all around.
The next post will be the last one in this year’s series of Eye of Horus. We will be coming to some overall conclusions about what we’ve learnt, and hopefully some of our fragmentary seeings will begin to form a whole.
photo © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt
As I was wowed by this formation of fluffy clouds, I wondered what it would be like to walk down them, as if they were a road, and wondered if, with the right angelic feet, it might be like walking down a highway made of marshmallows; small round pillows of utter softness, springing slowly back up into wholeness as the impressions of weight were released.
text and photo © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2017
As of this week, Rowan and I have a new website up and running, which we are excited to share with you. It’s called Lakelight and it is intended to be the beginning of a vision we are called to build, a Christian sanctuary for the lost and the weary. Do come and have a look.
If you like what you see, we’d love you to join us on the next stage of the journey as we add content, by following the blog and/or subscribing to our infrequent mailing list. Use the contact form or email us at firstname.lastname@example.org to tell us what you think!
Here is the first blog post “On Not Getting a Grip”
Dear friends, my new book, “Garden of God’s Heart” which is a beautiful set of 365 spiritual contemplations inspired by English gardens accompanied by black and white photos, is now available to buy from Amazon, Lulu or Barnes & Noble, along with my three other offerings, paperbacks: Positive Sisterhood; Whale Song: Choosing Life with Jonah; and FREE e-book, Christian Prayers for the World.
Jennifer Rees Larcombe, acclaimed author and speaker, has this to say in her Foreword to “Garden of God’s Heart,” by Keren Dibbens-Wyatt:
“There are books that are beautifully written, books that tell great stories, books that contain deep spiritual truths and books which speak grace to the heart. Rarely is there is a book that does all these. This is such a book… I hope you will love it as much as I do.”
Enjoy! Thanks for reading!
If you would like to watch a short trailer for the book which includes my reading a line or two, then click this link… https://youtu.be/aAzz-XGo-ks
Today is a very rough day with my chronic illness. I barely know how to keep going, to be honest with you. It was preceded by a night of tears, and I did not feel much like praying this morning. But I’ve lived long enough to know that it is precisely at times like this that prayer is even more important than usual. Even if it is asking other people to do it for me.
It’s days like this where even an innocent blanket can look like a raging sea, where the exhaustion wraps itself around me like miles of kelp and pulls me under. These kind of depths are full of potential. They can become sea monsters, full of fear and doubt, worse, self-pity, or a powerless, tiring rant; or they can be given over to God and become a lament, a sobbing prayer, a silent, dull, duvet-coddled sort of day. A day when I ask friends to pray for me and tell God I don’t understand but I love him and know he is good, a strange, grey, unusual blogging sort of a day, where my words might reach someone else drifting in the same sort of painful, difficult, world-weary boat, and we might both receive some kind of solace from knowing we are not the only ones on this quietly terrifying ocean.
Photo and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2017