What Manner of Man
(A weekly program for knowing and following Jesus Christ)
By Richard M. Eyre
Month 4: His Sensitivity
“Into a mountain apart to pray”
WEEK 13: POETIC SENSITIVITY
Picture the Master sitting by the seaside as the sun sets; in a boat a little way out, speaking to the multitude on the shore; on the side of a mountain, alone in prayer; going out of the city’s dust and clamor to the peaceful beauty of Bethany; winding his way though a golden cornfield; withdrawing to the wilderness to pray.
Now hear the imagery of his words:
“How often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings” (Matthew 23:37).
“Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow…even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these” (Matthew 6:28-29).
“The wind bloweth where it listeth” (John 3:8).
“Her branch is yet tender, and putteth forth leaves” (Mark 13:28).
He spoke of putting “a new piece of cloth in unto an old garment” and of “children of light” (Matthew 9:16; John 12:36).
All that the Lord did had a clarity, a beauty, a sensitivity, a harmony with nature and earth. All that he said had the poetic qualities of awareness and vividness.
How in tune the Lord was! How in touch, how in tune!
I wondered for years why it was that his sensitivity and love for the earth went so far beyond that of any man. Then one day I heard the phrase, “We love what we have made.” The Lord saw beauty in all things partly because he put beauty in all things.
He loved nature—the fresh, the good, the pure, the majestic. He went alone to the mountains, to the seashore, to the desert to regenerate, to be recharged by the calm serenity of his earth and by the peace of its spirit.
Ponder how such retreats could precede great outpourings of the Holy Spirit. (From the desert he comes, preaching with new power. From the seaside he comes, curing and healing. From the mountains he comes, walking on water.)
It has been said that poets can speak with true beauty only about the things they love. The Master loved all, and loved us all, and therefore was the most sensitive and beautiful poet of all time.