Rewilding Your Heart
In the beginning was water, and it was formless and void. These primordial waters, in the ancient world, were a symbol for chaos: all that is unknown, the creative potential of the universe. In the ancient Babylonian creation myth, this primordial chaos was something to be conquered and subdued, an enemy to be vanquished, unwieldy and dangerous. But here, in this ancient text we call the Bible, we find a God that hovers and blows and moves over the chaos.
The word "hovers" only appears twice in the biblical text, first here in Genesis and second in Deuteronomy 32:11, where God is described as a mother bird who hovers over her babies, "spreading her wings to catch them." This connotes a gentleness, a mothering, a brooding. Like a mother bird, the Spirit broods over the chaos and potential of creation, gently and lovingly calling it into being.
Here, in this opening story of the creation of the cosmos, we find a mother god, a god who is not afraid of all that is unknown and wild.
The work of God in our lives is so often the same: in the deepest parts of ourselves, in the wounds and the hurt and the pain and all that is wild and untamed, God is moving, brooding, hovering, speaking, calling us into being.
So often, we fear the journey inward. The stories shame tells keep us bound and trapped, convincing us that we can find the love and belonging we so deeply desire if we only tame ourselves, and hide the parts of ourselves that feel too chaotic, too wild. But instead, we wind up feeling even more isolated and alone.
But God is doing the work of rewilding in the depths of our own hearts. This work of rewilding is not easy; in fact, it can often be hard and painful. But it is not a work that we do alone. We are accompanied by a wild and unafraid God, a god who hovers and broods over all the unknown and potential. A god who knows our names and who calls us into full and wild and joyful freedom.
written by Isabel Packevicz, Duke Divinity Intern (Summer 2024)
