I am the child at a parade:
“Put me up on your shoulders,
I want to see!”
I am Zacchaeus behind the crowd:
“Give me a leg up into this tree,
I want to see!”
I am the Christmas-present-shaker,
the “give me sky-writing” pray-er,
the one who needs it on paper:
“I want to see!”
Show me what I cannot see, O Elusive Hope,
otherwise how can I believe it?
Help, Most Mysterious God.
I do not believe it.
on Romans 8:25
Rachel,
An interesting juxtaposition with your earlier silence-of-God, or was it, God-in-the-silence piece. I find myself often quite patient, perhaps because the coincidences keep on keeping on!
I’m still waiting for patience to find me. 🙂