A letter to the fly on the wall,
I read the gospels with longing. The retellings stir things
to life deep in the core of all that makes me a woman, and of all that was
broken as a girl. I follow Jesus’ steps with every word. I find myself dancing
around him at times, as if he’s still-framed and I examine his hands, his
knees, his eyes. I wonder and ponder; What was it like to be loved by him?
If only I could have been you. A simple fly on the wall of
the temple. What would you have seen on that day the ruckus started? Did it
seem as suspicious to you as it does to me every time I read the account. If only
I could have been there.
Dust would cover my knees as I dropped to her side. I would look
up and try to see what she saw in the teacher's eyes when he uttered the words, “Where
are your accusers. Go and sin no more.” I would watch her face slowly rise. I’d
be riveted by his eyes fixed fast on her heart. I could imagine that recognition
of grace spreading across her features, a softening coming to his gaze.
There’s that longing again.
There is another wall that you may have perched upon.
Perhaps the air was a bit stuffy in that room as the afternoon gave way to
evening. Perhaps refreshing desert breezes began to drift among the eager
disciples as they listened intently to the Master.
Often I try to insert myself into that scene. Mary at the
knee of her Lord with agitated banging and exaggerated exclamations coming from
the kitchen. I would allow my knees to bend and settle, not too close. Perhaps
beyond the intimate circle but not too far. I want to see his face. I want to
experience the animation and fervor that might have filled the conversation. And
to drink in the laughter, and thrill at the testimonies of all they had seen. The moments may have seemed ordinary
until Martha entered and with all that energy pressed the point to the Lord. And
then I would have leaned forward. I would have wanted to hear him affirm Mary, to
hear him place a priority on her relationship with him, her seeking him, her intentional
pursuit of him… I wish I had been there to soak in the meaning of it all. At
that phrase, “But Mary,” the air must have thickened. Did his focus slide to
Mary’s face in that slip of time? What expression passed from one heart to the
next? And what did Martha see on his face through this whole exchange. There are those Martha moments when I could use a firm but beckoning exchange with the Lord to help me remember to whom I belong.
In reality, I want to be more than the fly on the wall. I
know I’m to live by faith and I’m willing to do that. Many times the Lord speaks sweetly to my heart in much the same way that he most likely did while wandering this earth. But, I believe there is so much more that will not be satisfied this side of heaven, and the intense longing remains for that affirmation that can pass through the eyes, through the
tender look, through the innocence of an intimate gesture. It’s the
expression of a love that is already guaranteed, a love that is already sealed
by a covenant that’s as solid as the vast heart of my King. It's a love I know in part. I await to know it in it's fullness.
Until that day. Until that unveiling of the eyes, I am
content to wonder and ponder what it was like for you as a fly on the wall.
Today I'm linking up with Ruth Povey and Sabrina Fowles at their Letter To series. Come on over and join the fun!
Today I'm linking up with Ruth Povey and Sabrina Fowles at their Letter To series. Come on over and join the fun!
