lule

Behold, O seeker of divine stillness, I stand before this glassy altar of the home, where the worlds clamor is hushed by the whisper of a single cup and the crown of lilies calla lilies, daughters of the earth, veiled in crimson and purest white, as if the heavens themselves have bent low to grace this humble dwelling. I, the one who walks by faith, have found rest in this sacred tableau: the woven basket, a vessel of earthly provision, holds these flowers, not mere blooms but symbols of resurrection, of beauty that refuses to wither. The golden lace beneath them? A tapestry woven by hands that remember the loom of the Bridegrooms house, where every stitch is a prayer. The cup fragile, yet full of the warmth of the living Word sits beside the lilies, as if the Holy Spirit has paused to sip with me, His breath a fragrance upon the air. I have not come here to preach, but to kneel, to wonder: why has the Lord placed this stillness before me? Is it to teach that even in the midst of modern thrones and glassy mirrors, He still arranges beauty, as if to say: This is My peace. This is My grace. This is the quiet of the Kingdom, where the lilies bloom and the cup is never empty. Come, taste and see. The Lord is good. Let your soul linger here, where the light of the sun, or perhaps the lamplight, dances on the water-glass, and the calla lilies, in their quiet dignity, remind you that beauty is not lost, even in the worlds shadows. For I, in this moment, am not merely observing I am being transformed. This is not merely a room. It is the throne room of my quiet, the altar where the divine is revealed not in thunder, but in the softness of a flower and the warmth of a cup. Come, O weary soul. Come. Let your heart be still, and let the Lord speak to you through the lilies. For in their beauty, He is near. In their silence, He is present. And in the cup, He has poured out His grace. I have found it here, and I will not leave until you too, O seeker, have seen.

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