Strike me with lightning.
Remove my doubts, my unsurety.
There is this nagging irritation with the idea of more.
Of singing and rapture and leaping and dancing and hugging and …
And what?
I’m confused, now, in my feelings and my mind,
and I keep vacillating between doubt and maybe passion ...mmaybe passion.
I keep swinging between fear and an uncomfortable sort of ambivalence.
What am I supposed to feel in this?
This natural world where my flesh lies is, where my heart pumps is all I know of.
But this is not where life comes from …
There’s this lingering doubt that I avoid due to disrespect.
Irreverence.
Watch what you say.
Faithlessness.
Don’t let that grow.
Shame.
You better not.
But it’s there, but it’s there, but it’s there.
And I’m not so special as to see a bush in flames or know fame from my dreams,
but You seem to be untouchable, unreachable,
but with a hesitant hand, I sorta kinda reach in Your vicinity,
but stretch, strive, stretch, reach, stretch. Grasp.
My heart is too hesitant, embarrassed,
and my mind is too wondering, curious …
and, to write You the words, doubtful.
I have not the audacity to demand proof,
but I have not the heart to have faith.
And I don’t want to lose anything. What if I lose something?
Regret, loss, shame, disobedience.
And disenchantment with those that demand I serve You.
Who explain nothing … Should I ask?
Read and discuss, I hear, I hear You.
Listen, listening, lying, don’t listen.
Feeling nothing but shame at wondering and lightning at asking, doubting.
Please, don’t yet strike me down.
Amen.
