How long does it take to make the woods?

Dear Faith Family,

April is national poetry month, in case you didn't know! And so I wanted to share with you a poem from Wendel Berry. A poem about the rest of refining, which the narrowing of life to "the works" of Jesus inevitably brings about. A poem that is good company to the pastoral words of our Good Shepherd who is the gate, the way, the light, the beginning, and the end, and whose kingdom is always finished and forever being made.

May you rest in your refining as you find yourself "among the trees planted by streams of living water." 

How long does it take to make the woods? 
As long as it takes to make the world.
The wood is present as the world is, the presence
of all its past, and of all its time to come. 
It is always finished, it is always being made, the 
act of its making forever greater than the act of its destruction. 
It is a part of eternity, for its end and beginning
belong to the end and beginning of all things, 
the beginning lost in the end, the end in the beginning. 

What is the way to the woods, how do we go there? 
By climbing up through the six days' field, 
kept in all the body's years, the body's 
sorrow, weariness, and joy. By passing through 
the narrow gate on the far side of that field
where the pasture grass of the body's life gives way
to the high, original standing of the trees. 
By coming into the shadow, the shadow 
of the grace of the strait way's ending, 
the shadow of the mercy of light. 

Why must the gate be narrow? 
Because you cannot pass beyond it burdened. 
To come in among these trees you must leave behind
the six days' world, all of it, all of its plans and hopes. 
You must come without weapon or tool, alone, 
expecting nothing, remembering nothing, 
into the ease of sight, the brotherhood of eye and leaf. 

Love you, faith family! Praying our Father's blessing, the Spirit's filling, and the Son's calling over you this week.