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The Fourth Day – Genesis 1:14-19

Posted by Tyler Kirkpatrick | July 2, 2020

I was recently inspired to write a poem for each day of creation–(which are written as poems themselves). I will be posting a new entry each day. Today: Genesis 1:14-19.

The Fourth Day

I am on my deck in early darkness when it happens:
The clouds, as if painted with liberal oil brushstrokes
by some Impressionist artist
turn apocalyptic pink;
a revealing of the world splashed with
colors forgotten by night 
now irradiated by perfect golden hue,
the flowers and trees yawn and begin
their daylong photosynthetic stretch 
toward this giver of life: 
the Sun.

I am walking back to my dorm in cold alpine air
after a late shift in a summer job at 
the Paradise Inn when I see it:
the mountain. Rainier is not hidden
by night but all 14,000 feet from my feet
to the slopes of the summit are seen in 
unexpected luminosity: miles of glacier glowing
phosphorescent, a reflection of reflected light:
The Moon.

I am deep in a desert canyon miles
from manmade illumination of metropolis and city
The sky hangs above me like a porous black canvas
trying to hold back the very light of Heaven which
bursts through in millions of little places:
The Stars.

Gazing up into space I am transported out of time
into the fullness of this Present
unaware of growing awareness of my smallness,
warmed by the faint breath of eternity invading time.

No wonder so many worshiped 
Sun, Moon and Stars in holy reverence!
What wonder that Ancient Hebrews living 
under the brilliance of Middle Eastern sun,
gazing at the mystery of the moon
and spectacle of the stars did not bow
in worship, but knew even these are creation:
The Fourth Day.

[1] Snowstorm of Stars, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. http://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=56825 [retrieved July 1, 2020]. Original source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:A_snowstorm_of_stars.jpg

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The Third Day – Genesis 1:9-13

Posted by Tyler Kirkpatrick | July 1, 2020

I was recently inspired to write a poem for each day of creation–(which are written as poems themselves). I will be posting a new entry each day. Today: Genesis 1:9-13.

The Third Day

In a few simple words, Dry Land is created:
wind and glacier worn flanks of
Annapurna, Blanc, Cerro Bonete, Denali
an endless alphabet of soaring ice and granite
River-carved canyons and caverns
Plateaus and plains

Yet.
It is the afternoon's events 
that receive the attention:
Life.

The third day of creation 
yet the first day in which God saw
how good creation was
letting out a mirthful laugh
delighted at these creatures
capable of re-creating and recreating:

Mountain meadows awash with flowers
bringing a full palette of new color 
into this new creation
Roses of Sharon and Lily of the Valley 
and the lillies of the field
Cedars of Lebanon and Saguaros of Sonora 
and Sequoias of California clapping their hands
and bursting into song
each one breathing, growing, alive
each one sacred, created and re-creating
each one very good.
The Third Day.

[1] van Gogh, Vincent. Olive Trees, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. http://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=56501 [retrieved June 30, 2020]. Original source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Vincent_van_Gogh_-_Olive_Trees_-_Google_Art_Project_(Minneapolis_Institute_of_Arts).jpg

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The Second Day – Genesis 1:6-8

Posted by Tyler Kirkpatrick | June 30, 2020

I was recently inspired to write a poem for each day of creation–(which are written as poems themselves). I will be posting a new entry each day. Today: Genesis 1:6-8.

The Second Day

Raindrops drizzle and dance
upon the surface of the lake
In their playful prancing they are becoming
a part of the surface upon which they dance

Sidewalks steam in the streaming sunlight
ethereal evaporation
the returning--
transformed and having transformed
for rain and snow do not return
without nourishing, conceiving, bringing forth life;
in their becoming they beget the becoming of the world

Sky above and sea below
Separated but not separate
"Neither movement from nor towards,
neither ascent nor decline... there is
only the dance"[1]
In the dance the becoming
In the becoming the transforming
In the transforming the returning
A symbiotic cycle made possible
Only by the separating.
The Second Day.

[1] From T.S. Eliot’s Four Quartets

[2] Featured image: Caillebotte, Gustave, 1848-1894. Yerres, the Effect of Rain, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. http://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=55760 [retrieved June 29, 2020]. Original source: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:G._Caillebotte_-_L%27Yerres,_pluie.jpg.

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The First Day – Genesis 1:1-5

Posted by Tyler Kirkpatrick | June 29, 2020

I was recently inspired to write a poem for each day of creation–(which are written as poems themselves). I will be posting a new entry each day. Up first: Genesis 1:1-5.

The First Day

“God is not darkness, but in the darkness I saw God.”[1]

The work of God begins in darkness 
evening first, then morning.
While I slumber in subconsciousness
God works well before my waking
knitting neurons and leading them on right paths
“Our life is a faint tracing on the surface of mystery”[2]
Unexplained abyss formless and void.

GPS pinpoints the coordinates of our routine transpacific flight
But neither person nor computer
Knows 
the world that lies below the
surface of the deep over which we hover

Ferries filled to capacity jet confidently
and routinely across Puget Sound,
barely submerged into the unseen darkness below
They are water-winged children
Dog-paddling on the surface of mystery

God is light 
…though the darkness hide thee.
The work of God begins
hovering over the darkness 
of a world still uncreated.
In the unexplained abyss of
formless chaos
God calls forth light
evening first, then the illumination of morning. 
The first day.

[1] Something I read years ago and a quote I’ve been able to track down. Rainer Maria Rilke, perhaps?

[2] Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek.

[3] Featured image: Watkins, Carleton E., 1829-1916. Solar Eclipse from Mount Santa Lucia, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. http://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=56320 [retrieved June 29, 2020]. Original source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Carleton_Watkins_(American_-_Solar_Eclipse_from_Mount_Santa_Lucia_-_Google_Art_Project.jpg.

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Good Dirt.

Posted by Tyler Kirkpatrick | 3/14/2019 “Then the LORD God formed a man from the dust of the ground…” Those of us who are familiar with the creation of Adam in Genesis 2 are probably familiar with that wording above (or something similar), but lately I’ve been drawn to the CEB translation of that verse: “the LORD God formed the human from the topsoil of the fertile land and blew life’s breath into his nostrils. The human came to life.” “From the topsoil of the fertile land.” It has often been pointed out that “Adam” (the Hebrew word often translated in our Bibles as “human” or “humanity”) essentially means something not far from “Dirtball,” and that human life is “from dust to dust” as we said last week on Ash Wednesday. It’s often associated with our sinful, corrupted nature, and there is a lot of truth there. Compared to the holy, eternal God, we are as dust. But it’s also worth noting that humanity is called “Dirt” before the Fall, so maybe there’s more to be gleaned here. I’ve had new light shed on this text recently by two favorite authors of mine: Wendell Berry and Eugene Peterson. Wendell Berry is a farmer… as well as a novelist, poet, essayist and cultural critic to boot, and he provides a unique agricultural perspective on stale words and concepts. We sometimes forget that scripture was written in a world dominated by farmers (note how many of Jesus’ parables are agrarian in nature). Eugene Peterson was a pastor, author, and Bible translator who said he read Wendell Berry’s writing on farming to learn how to be a pastor. Peterson remarked that simply replacing the word “farm” with “church” worked every time. He connected Berry’s observations about dirt as it relates to congregational life: “Wendell Berry has taught me a lot about topsoil. I had never paid attention to it before. I was amazed to find that this dirt under my feet that I treat like dirt is a treasure: millions of organisms constantly interacting, a constant cycle of death and resurrection, the source of most of the world’s food.”[1] “The LORD God formed the human from the topsoil of the fertile land”: we, the people of God are a treasure because we are treasured by our God. Created by God and called “good”; a community of organisms interacting, a constant cycle of death and resurrection, of births, weddings, baptisms, potlucks, joys, sorrows, service, mission, funerals. “The LORD God formed the human from the topsoil of the fertile land”: we are called to be the soil that is the source of the world’s most important food. If people do not discover the Bread of Life or the True Vine growing in the topsoil of the people of God, where will they find it in this world? “The LORD God formed the human from the topsoil of the fertile land”: we are as inconsequential as dirt when compared with the vastness of the eternal, holy God. But that holy God forms us and breathes breath into us, filling us with life abundant. [1] Peterson, Eugene. “Stumbling Across the Supernatural.” Christianity Today, July 1, 1991. Accessed January 9, 2019. https://www.christianitytoday.com/pastors/1991/summer/91l3082.html.