Whenever the living creatures give glory and honor and thanks to the One Who sits on the throne, Who lives forever and ever, the twenty-four elders fall down before the One Who sits on the throne and worship Him, Who lives forever and ever. ~ Revelations 4: 9 – 10
Something stirs lightly within me at these words of the 1st Reading from Revelations. When we glorify God, the 24 elders fall in worship before Him. I do not know what it means beyond what is stated, but even in its most basic interpretation, those verses stir the beginnings of awe in me: that my most meagre praises and thanksgiving are multiplied in heaven. I begin the day in tentative praise,
Blessed be God, forever and ever
I feel a slight, quick press of spirit in response to my first offering. Quick and then it is gone. I know I must follow, that it is up to me. This praise offering should have been a route I am familiar with, despite not traversing it enough.
However, today, it feels as if I’ve never been here before.
Since last Wednesday, since the witching hour hammering at my gates, when a nefarious hideousness hovered for long seconds, suspended between my sleep and alertness, everything has changed. Since my broken scream, Where are you, God? Where are You? in response to the evil that came so close that night despite my struggles to hold fast to what is right – and with the gentle embrace of Heaven the next day, everything has lost its familiarity. It feels as if with that attempted encroachment, the past – my knowledge, my understanding – has been erased by a mighty Hand. Structures – both good and bad – levelled, experiences wiped clean.
I have to start afresh – but I’ve not been returned to the old starting point. This is a fresh start.
It feels as if I must learn how to walk again. So, I get to my feet, wobbly and uncertain.
And begin, Blessed be God, forever and ever.