Stirring.

I discovered a poem today, along with a new blog to follow. I also discovered the poetry-lover that has lain dormant in me for a while under the day-to-day piling on of wife/motherhood tasks and duties that are not usually conducive to literature reading (except nursing, which is one reason I love it so very, very much).

I found said poem (and said blog) via this tweet from Andrew Peterson, the author of a series of books called the Wingfeather Saga, the third of which I just finished two nights ago (The Monster in the Hollows, see the link over to the right under "Currently Reading"):

@AndrewPeterson

Andrew Peterson

This poem by John Betjeman is brutally honest. Thank God I'm not alone in this feeling.http://bit.ly/k1t40W

Here's the post as featured at The Rabbit Room, which was originally written by D.S. Martin on his blog, Kingdom Poets.

And here's the poem, written by Sir John Betjeman {1906-1984}. Steady your soul.

     The Conversion of St. Paul

     
     What is conversion? Not at all
     For me the experience of St Paul,
     No blinding light, a fitful glow
     Is all the light of faith I know
     Which sometimes goes completely out
     And leaves me plunging into doubt
     Until I will myself to go
     And worship in God's house below--
     My parish church--and even there
     Find distractions everywhere.

     What is Conversion? Turning round
     To gaze upon a love profound.
     For some of us see Jesus plain
     And never once look back again,
     And some of us have seen and known
     And turned and gone away alone,
     And most of us turn slow to see
     The figure hanging on a tree
     And stumble on and blindly grope
     Upheld by intermittent hope.
     God grant before we die we all
     May see the light as did St Paul.

I love this poem's vulnerability and transparency, and I love how concisely, simply, accessibly, and beautifully it conveys its sentiment, just like good poetry is supposed to do. Taking the time to read and meditate on things like this makes something in my soul come alive. My heart responds to the truth and beauty of it.

Has anything resonated with you lately? If so, I'd love to hear about it. I think this would count as an exercise in "stirring one another up to love and good works."

And I pray that as we do so, we would also stir others to "[turn] round [and] gaze upon a love profound."