Black Coffee Green Tea

Father, Lover of my soul. You are beautiful, unabashedly brilliant.

Your light shines bright, Your love is deep.

My words are echoes of your presence, impressed upon the depths of my soul.

Your name is on me, and I am yours. Unashamedly yours.

To talk about you is like talking about a lover. The words come out clumsy and foolish.

I am not ashamed of you, but of my inability to describe you.

You are sovereign, even with my lack of understanding. You meet me where I am,

just as I am. Amidst my imperfections your love finds me, chases me down

like something wild, like a frenzied fire or a rushing flood.

You overwhelm me, at the deepest and even at the most vain part of who I am.

Everything my flesh can fathom is vanity, it only skims the surface of you are.

So finite, my mind, and yet you look into my soul-- and you call me daughter.

I don't understand you, but I feel you and I know you... though my eyes have never seen your face, I have found you as a vision in my dreams, as a voice calling out by both night and day.

In the middle of your whispers, your echoing waves that roll like water or melodies across the timeline of my life... the way I view it so linear, so microscopic and hyper-focused on details and I know that you see it as something so different. A bigger picture, a greater perspective. And you look over me with joy, you see it with a great love and pride.

Though I was ashamed, you called me beloved. You washed my feet, put a ring on my finger and a promise in my heart. You called me lovely and you bound yourself to me. Your promises cradle me like a child, and I am safe in your arms.

Who can express how good you are, or at the other end of the spectrum, how "unjust" you are? What is justice to a human being, that with one cry of his lips screams to the heavens and and shouts across the earth, "LET THERE BE GREAT JUSTICE TO ALL PEOPLE", then lives in the very next moments for himself, selfish and hiding in the darkness of his own flesh and ribs... wallowing in the very dirt and death from which he first came?

If we live by the dust, then our glory is the dirt.... which is swept up and strewn by the wind, here today and gone tomorrow, as the old words say.

Let this life not be in vain, Lover of my soul, and though people may laugh and mock, though my words may be clumsy and foolish, let me transcend my own feelings to long for the greater things. To love and value, and to absolutely cherish at the utmost the things that do not pass, this love and truth and hope that extends the finite nature of time and the epedimic, the plague that is the human condition. You came to reconcile that, and you're coming again.

You are not a limitation, you are freedom at its utmost, you are love at its highest, at its finest.

Let me not forget the true and good things, the things the eternal stars that do not fade or die out as the cosmos do; set to come and go, glorifying for a time but ultimately fading. I am a cosmic star to shine and fade, making room for more brilliant stars that glorify the Lovely One, the Lover of my soul. Help me to celebrate the fullness, the brilliant source that causes me to burn, that gives fuel to my passion and purpose to my course.

And because of You, I am free. More free than I have ever been. More free than yesterday. Let me be present for the now, while I am here, let me be fully here. Let me take root in the fullness of where I am planted, Father, and do not let me be swept up by every passing wind. Keep my heart grounded in the foundations of the One my soul loves.