AFTER THE CONFESSION
(Mark 8: 31-38)
You tried to explain it to your brother once,
and to yourself, the sense you’ve had
growing within you since that day
Jesus called you to follow, and you did –
that sense of awe, of something forcing cracks
into familiar walls of thought, like that time
as a child when you first saw the sea, not
the Galilean waters from which your family fished,
but the Mediterranean, vast, blue, the deep waves
rolling in, the ships sailing out, their square sails
growing small as they headed to the horizon
from which the wind blew a salt scent
to your skin, while your thoughts tried to grasp
something big beyond words . . .
and today here is Jesus, asking what people
have been naming him, and you use the word
that comes so easily to your lips, it slips
like breathing from your mouth: “Messiah”,
yet you sense as you say it that you’re trying
to name the sea, but describing
just the beginning of an ocean of truth;
and sure enough: Jesus speaks about suffering death
almost as if it were part of a plan,
which surely can’t be, but he rebukes
your rebuke of him, talks of taking up a cross,
of losing life to find it –
suddenly you are again that young child
on the shore, watching a boat leave harbour
on a deeper sea than you’ve ever known –
and somehow the ship that’s leaning into the wind
has its deck underneath your own feet.
Copyright © 2015 by Andrew King
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