Spring Break provided me with ample opportunities to be still.
For hours I worked in my garage … painting, sanding, waxing, sawing, nailing. Furniture was transformed, home repairs were made, and my soul was given room to breath.
Spending my time in such a quiet way gives me the opportunity to hear better.
I find having the time and space for quiet allow me to sing (and no other has to hear my horrid voice), to contemplate, to plan and dream, to weep, to smile, to pray.
Just this week, in our departmental prayer and devotion time, the person leading did so without her own words … yet my heart and soul heard so clearly.
As the lyrics to When I Survey the Wondrous Cross play, I heard them afresh, as though the weight of them, the weight of their story, lay firmly on my heart.
An archaic, yet still-relevant, hymn of the faith. Sir Isaac Watts is said to have penned it’s words about three hundred and eight years ago.
I glanced around the room, at the lovely people there … each of us with our own public or private sorrow, weighing on our hearts. Yet …
when we consider, when we survey,
that cross, that wondrous cross,
our own sorrows diminish, fade if only for the length of the song.
“When I survey the wondrous cross
on which the Prince of Glory died
My richest gain (deepest pain) I count but loss (no rugged cross)
and pour contempt on all my pride
Forbid it Lord that I should boast (weep for myself)
Save in debt of Christ my God
All the vain things that charm ( me most
I sacrifice them to his blood
See from his head, his hands, his feet
Sorrow and love flow mingled down
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet?
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
Were the whole realm of nature mine
That were a present far too small
Love so amazing so divine
Demands my soul, my life, my all“
itsawonderfilledlife 