A Friday Morning Devotional in Iglesia Evangelica Metodista / Bob Ambrose

Listen.      Echoes intermix here,
on the inside of a sweet instrument
projecting love with Latin flair,
where hearing is whole body
and fuego is a dance not confined
to Domingo, where decibels carry
fevered joy deep into small town nights.

Staccato hammer,
hum of weld
that build and bind
the world outside
are amplified
within these walls
from tile floor
to high eves hiding
bats, and back,
they bounce
right through,
they permeate
the empty rows
of wooden pews.

The world intrudes on sacred space,
it drowns out parts, accentuates
in bold strokes the soft voice
that weaves a world of wise fools
who bind the blessed earth and sky
with bold themes and threads of hope

While high above,
inside each pause
between rude strokes
and spoken words,
bright notes proclaim
to those who hear
what gospel truth
wild birds can sing.

And some hear more – a living
spring that wells from nothing
pouring forth between the notes
with cleansing uncontained
by culture, unconstrained
by earnest creed.

So dance my love
with fire and joy:
the emptiness, awash
with angels, echoes
silent thoughts of God.
Just listen, love
with body, soul
but careful though,
for here it roars.

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