“I gotcha covered,” You say,
like a friend unexpectedly
picking up the lunch check,
except that I can’t exactly
get the next one (how do you
treat God to lunch or coffee
and does anyone know
God’s favorite restaurant?);
so I smile and say “Thanks”
but feel secretly embarrassed
which is the worst — and there,
right there, is precisely the rub
of Lent: that You are generous
and fiercely faithful while I
am not at all…and on top of
all my whimsies and vanities,
I resent owing. anything. but
You’ve obligated me by Your
graciousness, by this simple
act of covering what I cannot
afford but need all the same;
if it were up to me, I simply
wouldn’t be loved because
I cannot reimburse this holy
currency with meager pennies,
there is no math to resolve
this Lenten calculation:
You covered me, I owe You,
and knotted around my deep
gratitude is a little resentment.

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