A poetic reflection on how the physical dynamics of orbit paints a picture of the human spiritual journey to full surrender and intimacy with God. You’ll want to view this one on your computer rather than your phone, but your phone’s landscape mode will do in a pinch.
Round
and round
and round I go:
running, running,
circling, circling,
living
a weightless illusion:
free fall.
Falling, falling,
in the gravity of
Your being, yet
running, running—
dodging Your girth,
ever holding myself
at arm’s length
in a bid to outrun the Fall.
For I fear
the all-consuming
wind and fire
of entry
into Your presence—
Too much to lose.
Too much unknown.
Too much of You.
For what am I
but the smallest
speck of dust
to Your Immensity?
Better just
for You to be
my Anchor in the night,
and me Your tiny satellite.
Yet even here,
in the rarefied air
of this orbital existence,
the tiniest glimpses
of a true, whole life in You
wear away at my flight,
drawing me farther and farther
into You, strengthening the call
of the Fall.
Until at last,
trusting
that whatever small part of me
survives this baptism will be
all that is worth keeping,
praying
that this Fall be deeper
than the first, I
dive
.
.
.
through
wind
and
fire
.
.
.
into the oceans
of Your being.