It’s the presence of that love that’s there effortlessly in the silence. Even without anybody to back it, God is there when you listen. He is there I wasn’t wrong, no person can betray me. I felt the father in his voice, the presence in his hug. My eyes were closed. And in other ways my heart was open to the space where we receive what we need. It’s the presence of the love that’s there effortlessly in the silence. Because I needed it to be, because God is real in every father. Because peace is what God gives. Whatever else he does, the betrayal. It’s not that God can’t hear it’s that I stop listening when the time comes to turn myself into another vessel. Christ, the father is- and was- mine. I would give him anything- and I did, for the sake of what we all need. I give myself back to you. God, invisible. I will never hear you again through his mouth or his eyes. It is me I must feed. It is me I must see. It is me I must hear, there in the silence of you. This reminds me of a movie where all these people died for a man they believed in. It wasn’t about Jesus at all, but about him- and so he had to change and see what he’d done. For the sake of all- in a big new way. My heart feels dead sometimes in a pain so great. That I can’t describe it. That I can’t turn around when you call me. That I can’t tell you what I said. It’s all bigger than me. He is bigger than me. The one so small is the sound that I heard. Also, I know because I came to his light. Like when a baby cries from a dark room and you answer the need. In you. In the one holding the baby even. In the big picture. The movie where they were hung upside down being slowly bled through a small incision in their throat-until he stepped on the face of his God for them- because he had to, because nobody else was listening- is the movie I refer to. Because it wasn’t about what he believed but about what he did to stop the pain. Suffering at the hands of a father who never came to those prayers. Because men lie and deceive. Because humans get desperate for each other in ways we will never understand but instead will feed. Out of desperation and yearning to be with him. After death, inside the fear. His big safe hands. His pain ended. The presence was in the dream, in the final hug, in the sound of his hum. And I thought. “I felt it, I heard it, it was as real as it gets.” God gives himself in and through all. When we make it about a man we get hurt. We can’t do it any other way. Men grow old, men forget. Humans recede as they always will. Icons get full of themselves. It’s a sadness that will alway linger like a poison in my blood. Not forgotten but lingering in a slow sort of low grade sickness that not even a fever can destroy. Because my love is so deep for the giver who gives beyond any person. But through the person I felt what I knew to be resonant with my beloved, with the stain of the cross. With so many subtle tortures that cause singing. Deep in the soul of my desperate heart I made him what he was and will always be. The presence of a love that hears children when they cry. But now I hear me. Now I must listen to that form of God. Elusive and inside a heart too broken to know how healing occurs. But it does, because my hand is real. And he was just a long hurting dream. Of looking and waiting, unanswered prayers and self inflicted torture. Just like the movie. Until I found I am not Jesus. I have no one to save. God isn’t listening until I do. That no one is saved but by me and my understanding of how desperate and broken a human heart acts out. How creative a mourning heart can be. I know the beauty of myself because of this movie. Because of what I’ve done. You can still believe in me even after the betrayal. I would never hurt you, I would only end unreasonable pain. God does not have a name. At all- and God does not have a body, at all. We did this to ourselves. Small scared child…you can’t save God, that’s delusional.