I dream of a church

Our Lady of Refuge

My friend, David, over from Mad Priest's place, left a lovely, lovely comment on my meditation blog early this morning. So I went over to his blog to explore a bit and found this wonderful poem:

I dream of a church that joins in with God’s laughing
as she rocks in her rapture, enjoying her art;
she’s glad of her world, in its risking and growing;
‘tis the child she has born and holds close to her heart.

I dream of a church that joins in with God’s weeping
as she crouches, wedged down by the sorrow she sees:
she cries for the hostile, the cold and no-hoping,
for she bears in herself our despair and dis-ease.

I dream of a church that joins in with God’s dancing
as she moves like the wind and the wave and the fire:
a church that can pick up its skirts, pirouetting,
with the steps that can signal God’s deepest desire.

I dream of a church that joins in with God’s loving
as she bends to embrace the unlovely and lost,
a church that can free, by its sharing and daring,
the imprisoned and poor, and then shoulder the cost.

God, make us a church that joins in with your living,
as you cherish and challenge, rein in and release,
a church that is winsome, impassioned, inspiring;
lioness for your justice and lamb of your peace.

-- Kate Compston

I'm one of those seemingly rare people these days - a cradle Episcopalian. Being an Episcopalian/Anglican is not just a matter of conviction for me; it's central to my identity even though sometimes I have felt like bolting (for all sorts of various reasons over the years.) I was deeply moved by this poem because this church not only represents my faith, my commitment --- it is also home.