But I was in the forest, playing

Father, do you hear me?
Hands spinning, voices singing, spirit trembling.
Do you hear me?
Can you see this mess of bones and passion you put here on this earth?
Papa, can you see me?
Heart aching, mind creaking, fingers playing.
Can you see me?

If all I am is the right mix of chemicals and materials then I am nothing.
If all I am is a 9-5, a good marriage, and a few happy kids, then I am nothing.
If all I am is church on Sundays, healing the sick, and raising the dead, then I am nothing.
I could pray for the thousand years and still never reach your throne.
I could slay the giant, fast like Moses, and pick up that large, wretched cross, and yet never feel your love.
I could visit every cathedral and memorize every scripture and never be able to hear your voice.

For you are Spirit, confined by nothing, defined by everything.
In everything you are, and yet I cannot see you.
In every moment you speak, and yet my ears still ache to hear your voice.

Tell me, Holy God, where is the path up your mountain?

But you have made your mountain in me.
My heart a sanctuary for your presence,
an altar for your eternal fire.

Wild One, you have wounded me.
Eternal Flame, you have burned me.
Good Doer, you have undone me.

My lot I cast myself, but you cheated the game and saved me.
I sentenced myself to death, but you executed the executioner.

The devil keeps trying to call me; he pretends he’s you.

But I am in the forest, playing.