Monday, September 19, 2005
What kind of an answer is that, God? I asked you to listen to me and you meet me with an accusation. I have cried out to you in earnest and you have called me a heretic. But I do dishonor your glory. I forget that you are within me and when I remember, I bury you so deep down and I don’t let you out. I do worship dumb idols. I worship the gods of beer, lust, self-absorption, greed; I run more quickly to these false gods, and coutless others, than I do to you sometimes. Sometimes, ha! Most of the time. I rely on myself and not you. And they are dumb. They do not speak back to me, though I swear I hear them whispering sweet words in my ears. And I listen to those sweet, deceiving words. And I become dumb.