16 May 2020

A letter to God

Dearest God,

You are omniscient, omnipotent, majestic, humble, loving, innovative, creative, incredible - and that to an infinite degree.
I adore you with my mind, body, soul and spirit. With all that is within me.
On the other hand, I am not even worth it that you cast a glance to my side, yet you walk the extra million miles with me.

Sometimes fear, doubt, exhilaration, joy, despair, inconsistency, embarrassment  and condescension rip my soul and mind apart and make me feel the heat, dust and thirst of a desert storm, straining every tendon in my soul to elastic limits I never knew existed.
I am feeding my dreams with rations that cannot feed a fly and then expect my dreams to fly.
I allow my idiosyncrasies to rule my thoughts and actions, knowing full well they should be burned to reality before they burn me to hell.
Sometimes the truth I stumble on is so painful that I cannot face it, and then I hurry off as if nothing happened. (These are the historic words of a wise British statesman)
I know there is garbage in my life which should be burned in fire like chaff, but I fear the fire.

I love the words a prophet once wrote:
Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant.
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for the sacred feast of God.

I have a fear that fear itself will conquer me.
I am afraid of tomorrow lest tomorrow I would lose the faith I have today.
I am afraid that the evil of this world might invade my being, leaving me as a guard at some Nazi camp and wielding the power of Satan by the evil forces slumbering in my soul, because the evil of man knows no bounds when he resides in Sodom.
I am swinging between good and evil like a pendulum seeking a resting place in some unbalanced race of never-never land.

I love these words written by your servant John Donne:
But I am betrothed unto your enemy
Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again
Take me to you, imprison me, for I
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me

I am afraid that the battle for my soul becomes so intense that it bends my resolve and resistance and stains the wedding gown I will wear for your Son's Wedding Feast.
I am afraid that sometimes I might not see your face when you turn it away from me, like you did with your Son when you surveyed His cross and the pain became too much for you to bear.
I have a fear that this virus rips apart our fragile civilization we nourished for millennia, after it was destroyed in the dark ages and many times before, as it stands in harm's way once more.  
I am afraid that mankind loses its dignity and kill each other like wild dogs when their passion for revenge is ignited - a revenge which only belongs to you.


In the end, all I care about is to hang in here as you once hung upon a tree for me, not letting go for any reason I know.
I love your timing which is perfect and true, making our watches seem like guest speakers at a liar's convention, because time and place does not exist or matter when you are there.
And then you come my way and breathe lightly with your Spirit over my psyche and soul and I begin to soar to heights I never knew existed.
You say a word or two, and a whole universe opens up and unfolds under my eyes just when I thought there was nothing there.
Please let me cast my eyes away from my infirmities and frailties so that I can focus on you.
Please strengthen my soul through your spirit, power and wisdom, so that I can touch the face of God.

I close with the words John Donne wrote once upon a time, which inspires me from day to day:

Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun,
Which was my sin, though it were done before?
Wilt thou forgive that sin, through which I run,
And do run still, though still I do deplore?
When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
For I have more.

Wilt thou forgive that sin which I have won
Others to sin, and made my sin their door?
Wilt thou forgive that sin which I did shun
A year or two, but wallow'd in a score?
When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
For I have more.

I have a sin of fear, that when I have spun
My last thread, I shall perish on the shore;
But swear by thyself, that at my death thy Son
Shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore;
And, having done that, thou hast done;
   I fear no more.

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