Incoherent

 

What kind of love is this love of Yours, Lord? Eternity will not be enough for me to grasp it even if You give me a different mind, complete and pure and unaltered by sin and evil, I still don’t know that I’ll get You. Maybe that’s why all Your angels are stuck on repeat, ‘holy, holy, holy!’ because there’s nothing else to conclude while observing You. In my current state, with all my biases and misconceptions is there any wonder all my assertions of You fall short? And what verbal masterpiece can I possibly concoct that will even scratch the surface or won’t end up vapidly trying to articulate what others have already failed to say. Even if I focus all my mental powers and affections in one spot -- to praise You, it sounds like empty flattery at best.

 Should I tell You that You are great? What does an ant know about the magnitude of a mountain? Should I tell You, I’m in awe of You? Is that even the right word for this mental, emotional, physical state of something that resembles terror, but it’s intermingled with affection; that it wants to dance before You like a careless king did and at the same time wants to hide in a hole deeper than Mariana trench? Should I tell You that You’re worthy? I never knew the true worth of anything until it was too late. I still mistake what glitters for gold. My value system is all a skew, how can I possibly say ‘worthy’ in any meaningful way? And if I do, will You see beyond all the absurdity, that punny trembling intention that just wants to convey that I treasure You? That I’m grateful… so very grateful.

So, You see, Lord, I’m at a loss. So, I’ll just sit here, dumb and overwhelmed and reverent. I’ll appeal to Your Omniscience to make sense of it all.

 

Cristina Pop