May I make a suggestion? May I suggest, when you have read this post, that you take some time this weekend, either to go for a walk to find a pine cone or to find a picture of one on line. May I suggest you have a good look at it, examine it as best you can, and read the poem again. I pray your pine cone will speak to you as this pine cone did to me. What do you see in your pine cone? What is God saying to you?
It is tatty, this pine cone.
It is tangled up with needles that protrude from its bones
Changing its shape.
They are thin and spindly, sharp and dead.
They present a small threat to those
Who pick the cone up.
They should not be there.
What sharp, dangerous points are there in my life
That should not be there,
The remains of things that were and are no more
That maybe led me astray
And changed the shape of who I am?
Lord, whatever they are, show them to me
And help me to cast them off
And become the one You want me to be.
Then there is the core.
Holding all together.
Everything radiates from this centre
Which stands strong and solid.
It is this core that makes the major shape,
Changed on the outside by the sharp things of before
But the shape of what is supposed to be is there
Is this the core of faith?
Is this the core of God?
Is it You in me that makes me who I am?
Yes, of course.
You are the core.
You hold me together.
Everything else, even the sharp bits
Are held firm by You.
The arms radiate outwards and upwards
In a dance of praise.
Stretching out as far as they can reach,
They open themselves out to their Creator,
Offering their gifts, their seeds,
Their very being,
Back to Him.
This is where life is,
This joyous abandon,
This giving back to God of all
He has made me to be.
Taking His gift of seed
And casting it free to the wind
That it may blow where He wills
And settle where He plans
And grow how He decides.
This is the reason for being,
This joy, this using of gifts that have been given.
This is worship.
All that I am is Yours
All that I have is Yours
All that I will become is Yours,
And at the base of the cone
The arms are still tight.
What does this mean?
Is it an area of my life I am holding close to myself?
That I am reluctant to give You, Lord?
If so what is it?
I want to give You all of me.
Show me where I am resisting and rejecting You.
Or is it, perhaps, the future,
The potential I still have to fulfill,
The gifts I still have to unleash?
All those ideas and concepts that I am yet to receive,
All that life I still have to live
Lord, if this is it, then show me the way
I long to open up to You completely,
And worship You with every particle that is me.
Show me the way, Lord, to give myself freely to You
That You may be worshipped,
That the gifts You give may be used for You
And that I may fulfill the reason for my being
To the very end.