by Andrew Stephens-Rennie
Light and life. Darkness and strife. Who was there to see it?
In the beginning, or so the story goes, God created the heavens and the earth.
In the beginning, or so the story goes, there was a word.
But what kind of word? What kind of word would it be? And what would this word do? Was there more than word, in the beginning with God? Was there more than one?
Perhaps not just one solitary word, but a couple, a few. Not one, but two or three.
Into the darkness, into the chaos of it all, three words emerged, harmonizing the absurd, with the faithful chorus, “let there be.”
Light and dark, night and day.
“Let there be” heard twice; and firmament, skies, earth and sea are made.
“Let there be,” bright moon and stars, and sun in the skies. Brother sun and sister moon to mark the years, the seasons and days.
“Let there be,” living creatures of every kind, fish and birds fruitfully multiply.
“Let there be,” the earth is full of the goodness of God, animals, livestock and keepers for this unbridled zoo.
And yet this coursing humanity finds itself heading towards calamity, towards life and love, and the deep-seeded vanity that would tear them apart. Leaving the nest, the garden, the communion of saints to roam. To roam incessantly, only to find themselves wandering and yearning for home. A home they’d always hoped for. A home they’d once had.
A home, a gift that was wasted.
A home, a gift they wish they still had.
