Through a Glass Darkly: Volume III Issue 2 "Who Do You Say I Am?"

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY WHO DO YOU SAY I AM? VOLUME 3 ISSUE 2

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Contents Many thanks to OICCU for their support and collaboration with this edition, made for their 2022 events week with the theme ‘Who Do You Say I Am?’ It’s been a pleasure working with you all.

Rory Kunz

And, behold, a woman in the city

Susie Dowsett

In the night

Gabriel Cairns

Mark 8:29

You who Knew and Persisted

Who do you say I am?

Elena Vermeer Molayo Ogunde

Identities

Abigail Howe

How could I have seen?

Elizabeth Fair

Beyond

Lily Carson

FOR NOW WE SEE THROUGH A GLASS, DARKLY; BUT THEN FACE TO FACE. (1 COR 13:12 K JV)

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And, behold, a woman in the city - Rory Kunz Dear one, dare I now? – dare me to approach, let me… how can? how can I hold – dare to hold (my love), my anointed? Let me (I ask!) – let me pour myself – pour my everything – pour the ointment of my soul upon the feet that hold the ground together!

Tread light, my Lord (my love) – do not raise the feet I cry upon, do not raise that body away from me – let me hold – hold that – your – skin; my husband, my bride! My darling! – your wounds are so raw; they bleed – let me drink the cup – the pool that forms the face of the deep – let me rest! – Oh! My soul cries out for the crumbs that sit beneath your table. Take! Eat! Life!

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In the night - Susie Dowsett I am small and weak, vulnerable, tired and sleepless, alone in the night.

I do not know how to go on, I think I’ve lost count of failed remedies.

I cry out from the corner huddled in a nest of blankets and sat in the dark.

“Is this all I am?

Is this all I can be?

The things I try so hard to hide, will they ever leave?”

And a voice answers back, low but clear, splitting the darkness letting light through a crack.

“This is not all you are.

I say you are more.

And though you try to hide, I will never leave I see brave, and precious, 4

a daughter, whom I love.

I see what I made, and a life that I know, you can hide it away but not from me.”

I know the voice, it’s familiar.

But the words confuse me, how can they know?

I am sat in the dark, alone in the night.

Nothing here to know me, least of all the light.

“Lord, how do you know?

That I am not just the failure, the mess, that I know I am?

You are mighty, wonderful, a king on a throne.

You don’t know what I know.”

A deep breath in, and a gentle reply: “But I do know, I lived it.

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I came small and weak, swaddled in my own nest of blankets, and laid in the dark.

I prayed before I died, vulnerable, tired and sleepless, alone in the night.

But now you say mighty, wonderful king and you cry out to me.

And this is true too, weakness with strength by its side is a beautiful thing.

I see it in you because it was in me.

I share in your weakness, you share in my strength.”

He comes to me as father, counsellor, friend, king, lord, saviour, he sits by my side.

I may feel small and weak, but not alone, I’m reassured.

He shares in my weakness, I share in his strength.

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Mark 8:29 - Gabriel Cairns ‘But what for you? Who do you say I am?’

How many things could Peter then reply!

‘You are the promised Seed of Abraham, to whom the Law and Prophets testify; The blameless Lamb of God, slain to atone for sinners, and the firstborn of the dead; The child born to reign on David’s throne, and trample on the crafty serpent’s head though innocent and gentle as a dove; The one whom in denying I betray, yet forfeit not the everlasting love with which he loved me –’How then to portray the light of nations, every heart’s desire?

Thus answered Peter: ‘You are God’s Messiah.’

“But what about you?” he asked. “Who do you say I am?”

Peter answered, “You are the Messiah.”

- Mark 8:29

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You who Knew and Persisted - Elena Vermeer THEN

Who do you say I am?

I turn on my poker-face in the assembly hall, Sleepily shuffling, inwardly scoffing.

—Not this again. Why do they keep making us confront these questions?

I’m happy to squint at the shaded clouds; ignore the ‘you’ and ‘I’ stretched out against the sky.

—He’s a fanciful figure, enchanted, conjured up by troubled voices.

—Look, see: they desperately construct something upon which to rejoice.

I steer clear of their wilful blindness: what folly to pretend we can pray away the pain, the loss.

I shut off my face, bow my head, and nod into an oblivious slumber.

Who do you say ‘I’ am?

I’m a mess, I chuckled – a joke.

Half-concerned faces, equally fraught with stress, laugh along.

The tip of my mouth withers, as I mute the inner voice with a click: —You are a mess. What are you ever going to do with yourself?

—Shut your eyes and see. What do you mean by ‘me’?

I blaze my eyes open and the clinical white light of the classroom panels burns the pupils.

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NOW

Who do you say I am?

A dove flutters, singeing the walls of my chest-locker with bubbling sparks.

—You are... oh how i want this to be true but what if i’m just fooling myself —You’re my... stop stop you can’t fill the holes in your life with a made-up superhero —You make me... i only need myself no one else can help me i can do this on my own —You have saved me.

Four words, the Sunday-school fill-in-the-blank nearly crossedempty of meaning – But after four long years: —Yes. Who do you say I am?

I thought for so long, when you asked your rock, you were just declaring who you are.

And yes: he said, I say: you are the Christ, the same yesterday, today, forever.

But it’s strange, isn’t it, that you’d ask him to tell you who you are – You who Knew and Persisted in your mission as anointed – Surely who you are doesn’t need our affirmation – No, not in the slightest.

Unless – What it was really about – A question that melts hearts of stone, ‘But what about you? Who do you say I am?’

And as he answered, I answer: you are the Christ: In your name I declare who I am along with who you are – Now you’re a part of me and I’m a part of you. Nothing can separate me from your love.

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Who do you say I am? - Molayo Ogunde Who do you say I am?

Am I a prince or am I just a man?

Am I a fool or the one who was planned from creation’s beginning, the great I am?

Who do you say I am?

A good teacher, am I just a man like the prophets of old, in the line of Abraham?

Am I a fake or the great I am?

Who do you say I am?

A heretic, a liar, a sinful man?

The mighty prince of peace, who really can save you from your sins, the great I am.

Who do you say I am?

The risen Son of God, yes, a gracious man.

Who died for your sins, so now you really can, be free from your chains in God’s good plan.

And if you haven’t met me, just know I’m really there.

Why don’t you come and find me, And see how you fare?

For this world gives promises, that it often can’t keep.

Instead of joy, there is mourning.

Instead of celebration, we weep.

But I promise one that’s greater, far beyond what you’ve ever known.

Where abounding harvest comes bursting forth, out of every seed that’s ever sown.

Where all creation shall live, in perfect harmony.

What I ask of you, is to believe in me.

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Identities - Abigail Howe loved. precious not because of my actions, attributes or achievements but simply because i am. that is enough - and in a world which constantly urges us to be better, buy more and think bigger, that is rare and beautiful. your love feels like freedom.

your child. you are a necessity. not in the sense of force or fear, but in the same way breathing is essential. your love is the first gasp of air after breaking through the water, enriching and enlightening. your care feels like seeing the world anew.

redeemed. the fight has already been won on my behalf. there is nothing more i can earn, nothing more i can do - and that is terrifying and freeing. all i need to do is ask and you will answer, whether i whisper or scream. your redemption feels like liberation.

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How could I have seen? - Elizabeth Fair Had it not been For the stars in the sky And Your glory in nature, How could I have seen It was You? All these years I could only try To make sense of it.

I struggle to understand It was You. It was You Who took care at my first breath, Placed me in this home, This body, This life.

You knew full well What was to come.

It was You, Creator God, Who placed me by death, Knowing it would change My world.

It was You who planned it, Allowed it, Ordained it.

How can it be You Who shattered my heart and life?

How can the God of Love Be so cruel? In a gesture So sudden I don’t know what to think.

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Disbelief.

Then anger, Full force anger.

It bears the weight of what’s to come And the searing pain of love unsaid And the grief borne from so young.

Why? Yet I know It is You. It is You, The God who loves, Who cares, And who shares, In grief, and sorrow, and shadows.

It is You, The tender-hearted, donkey-riding king; Your tears were shed at premature death By the grave of Lazarus.

It is You, The wise ruler, everlasting one Who was And is And is to come.

It is You who walks with me through it all.

It has always been You. How could I not see?

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Beyond - Lily Carson beyond our understanding whisper, breeze, birdsong, raindrop, snowfall, candlelight, velvet wildfire, supernova, avalanche, thunder, drums, battle, roar contradictions that don’t contrast a juxtaposition that doesn’t clash but instead forms a jigsaw, more outrageously beautiful as the pieces are held together in perfect design one being, both power and humility simultaneously, the lamb and the lion the almighty creator, judge is our loving father, friend rule breaking in this world yet not of this world how can we define something that simply does not, cannot, fit in our boxes - our minds, simply not sufficient to comprehend everything that He is, that You are, The I Am a gift to be able to know Him, at least in part what we see through windows, words, sensations, moments, dreams, is just a flavour an exquisite glimpse of a picture we will never be able to fully capture peace beyond our human understanding justice beyond our human understanding wisdom beyond our human understanding power beyond our human understanding love Love, so far beyond what we could ever possibly conceive or imagine 14

Through a Glass Darkly EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Abigail Howe

EDITORIAL TEAM Lily Carson Sheppard Li Susie Dowsett Hattie Carter Sophie Greenwood

Through a Glass Darkly is a student-led journal of Christian thought and art committed to expressing that the gospel of Jesus Christ is living and active in our fields of study and creative expressions as much as it is present in our books and college names. We seek to provide a space for students to test the veracity and credibility of the Christian faith, and to find that it holds true and enriches life. We desire to honour our God-given calling as students to critically explore and see our platform as a way to engage with faith intellectually and critically. We hope that this journal is not the end of the conversation, but the start of one. We know that all that we know, we know in part, and that the Lord will illuminate and reveal more to us the more we seek after Him. Through a Glass Darkly is part of the Augustine Collective, a network of student-led Christian journals in university campuses throughout the United States and the United Kingdom. For more information, see augustinecollective.org.

Through a Glass Darkly is not affiliated with any church or religious organisation, and the opinions expressed in the publication do not necessarily reflect those of the editors.

All content copyright © 2022 Through a Glass Darkly and its contributors. All rights reserved.

Contact us at oxfordtagly@gmail.com, or connect with us on Facebook or Instagram at @throughaglass.ox.

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