Lord, I cry out to you from the whirlwind, caught between trying to live without you and believing I own you. By love, I am compelled to distance myself from the false confidence that denies the need for you, and the false prophet in me who tries to speak in your name.
I first met you outside the walls, in fields and stars, away from a Church that claims to possess you. What have you to do with gold and edifice? You are born homeless and helpless in a shelter built for animals. You number yourself among the refuse of society.
I walked through the halls of commerce and academia and I was received there. I became distant to the personal encounter with you in the wilderness. I made you a fact and a figure, a shared concept, and a weapon against others. You are none of these. You are the mystery of love.
How dare I claim to know you? Even my best concepts are torn asunder in your presence. Your love gets distorted by my broken heart and darkened mind, as I crucify you again and again.
I do not own you and I do not know you, but you reach out to me in silence and suffering. Let me hear your still small voice. Let me see your light in this darkness. Make a way for me in the wilderness. I will come to you, a penitent thief, seeking mercy and forgiveness for trying to create you in my own image.