Like Nicodemus, I seek answers to my questions
in the cover of darkness.
Uncomfortable of what others might think.
Like Moses, I point to my brother and say
"Pick him instead, he's a much better fit for the job."
Preferring to remain in the background,
where the spotlight is not so bright.
Like the woman at the well, I hide my sins
and then, by doing so, forget to seek forgiveness.
Remaining thirsty, when there is no reason to be.
Like Zechariah, I laugh at what appears to be impossible
forgetting that nothing is that way.
Then I wind up speechless. Which is perhaps a gift?
Like Sarai, I take matters into my own hands,
thinking I have the answers rather than patiently waiting
for promises to be fulfilled. What a mess I am capable of.
So very grateful, that I do not have to be perfect
to be loved.
God's story, as told by you and me.
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