Heaven’s throne

           “Lord, when was it that we saw you?…”
                         —Matthew 25.37

Until we see the throne of the Holy One rightly
we see nothing.
It’s an upturned five-gallon bucket on a street corner,
a bed in the locked ward, a cot in a refugee camp.
A cell. A wheelchair. This is where the Mystery abides.
The burning Sun of Life, the hand that spins the universe,
the uncontainable Heart of Grace, will not be confined
to the familiar, the comfortable, the esteemed.
A pretty face, elegant mastery, even wisdom,
these are distractions, little baubles outside the temple.
The Ferocious Glory will not be packaged.
Look in the yellowed eyes, the matted hair.
Listen to the strange accent, the halting speech,
or mangled speech, or none. The Infinite One is there.
Maybe hardest of all, look at that annoying co-worker,
the boss from hell. No one, no one, is exempt.
No matter whose presence you are in, you are always
as close to the throne of heaven as you think you are.

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
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