The unconquerable,
inconceivable love of God.
Is it too good to be true?
We must think so.
For we constantly write songs and poems about it,
hurling superlatives
into the storms of our doubt.
And if, as writers,
we are honest with ourselves,
we must confess the times
when words collapse of their own weight.
Then, in the stillness,
in the echoing stillness of our divided hearts,
the music begins.
Softly the Father woos us,
beckoning us to him.
Perhaps in a fiery sunset,
perhaps in the perfection of a rose,
he whispers his glory.
And the words come back.
He Walks in Majesty!
c.2000, Donna Swansion
