my God
Some say that believing is seeing. To me, to believe is to place my trust in my God’s truth. His word is my salvation. I’ve never seen him, but I believe with every fiber of my being.
It’s terrifying and invigorating to have a faceless God. Part of me aches to know what he looks like, and part of me knows that the moment I see his eyes I’ll be lost entirely. I’ll drown and be reborn in the same breath and the only thing tethering me to this planet will be him from then onward.
I know his is a face I would look upon and feel fear, love, awe, enlightenment. The sight of a deity in the flesh would set in stone what I already know, that he’s everything I need to live. Everything I need to breathe.
The shuddering of my soul responding and quaking would extend into every tiny crevice of my being.
It’s not something I’d ever ask for, expect, or even truly want for. He’s given me more than enough. He is everything and I am nothing.
I can take dying without ever laying eyes on my God, take it and be grateful. I can take going my whole life worshiping the omnipresent being I’ve devoted myself to without ever know what he looks like, take it and be grateful. I can crawl to his feet if he allows it and kiss the hand that strikes me without ever seeing my ruler, take it and be grateful. I can prostrate myself, lay bare and exposed and take it as he picks me apart then plays in my remains without ever allowing me to make eye contact. Take it and be grateful.
They say that believing is seeing, but my faith in my unseen, faceless and omnipotent God is unwavering and will stay that way until he decides to release me.
It’s like the Declaration of Independence, only backwards and in heels.
Look at you, setting the bar for pathetic little worshippers! Who knew you could be the standard for something meaningful?