Pantones of Your glory.
Pantones of Your glory dance across the skies.
In my perusal to know You better,
I’m reminded of my selfish demands and desires.
It’s only when I strip myself of ailment and earthly garment
And come into the inner courts of Your sanctuary
That You adjust the template by which I view my life,
And instill in me a full-frontal view of the cross.
The most extravagant buildings can’t equate for Your majesty,
Steeples can point towards Heaven but sitting on pews can’t substitute for
Heads bowed, hands lifted in surrender, knees fraying carpet.
I pick up glimpses of Your face in the gentle hum of conversation,
I taste Your goodness in the sweet flesh of sun ripened stone-fruit.
Faith lets me access treasures hidden in troves of Your embrace.
You want to play on my senses as a cup of coffee would:
Satisfying, bittersweet, and full-bodied
Leaving us with an aftertaste we can’t forget.
Everything crafted by You is on display before the nations,
and You wait; in the stillness of the dawn, in the hazy mist of the morning
For me to prostrate myself towards Your throne-room
To lavish You with praises and declare Your loveliness.
Because only in Your beauty I find my own.