Defying Gravity

As I look at the sky my neck grows tired and gravity pulls my gaze downward: I see only people. As I look at people my neck grows tired and gravity pulls my gaze downward: I see only my dirty feet. I think, my dirty feet, is this all there is? It is a small world.

Tired, dirty feet marching along, where am I going? At church. Praise God, I sing, but see only my feet, and these feet are still tired. Maybe others know.

I lift my head and see others, walking. Going in different directions. Quite a better view than my feet, perhaps my answer lies here. Where can I rest, friend? The answer lies inside, he says. I look at my bellybutton. I am not inspired.

I turn to another. Where can I rest, friend? In the company of others, he says. I stand with others, and feel relieved that I am not the only one standing. But my feet are still tired.

Look up, look up, I hear. I look up. I see the heavens that declare the glory of God, the skies that proclaim the work of His hands, pouring forth speech and displaying knowledge. I glimpse majesty incomprehensible, holiness overwhelming.

Looking upward, I find rest, for my soul finds rest in God alone, my salvation comes from him. Once hath God spoken, these two things have I heard: strength is the Lord's, and to thee, Lord, is mercy.

As I look at the sky my neck grows tired and gravity pulls my gaze downward: I must defy gravity. As I resolve to rest alone in the Origin of power and the Fountain of mercy my neck grows tired and gravity pulls my gaze downward: I cannot defy gravity. But the one who is merciful extends his might to defy gravity, and lifts my head. It is a good view.