I'm not sure what to do with my ideas of you anymore.
They seem to have outgrown your box.
Can my ideas of you outgrow you
if I am committed to you?
Can my hope for what I think is best
cause me to deny you,
To become an accuser
who dodges accusation?
To walk on water
and subsequently sink?
Or to pass from Satan to Saint
in the space of a few chapters?
They say you made us in your image,
that we returned the favor.
I think I might be trying to do you a favor.
Note: I choose the images for every blog post carefully and very intentionally. For this poem, I chose a picture of a nebula - a cloud of space dust that can be either the result of an exploding star or a place where new stars are being formed. I feel like this idea captures what I've been wrestling with as I struggle to make sense of God in new ways. The added bonus of this particular picture is that it clearly looks like a hand reaching up, in the same way I feel I am reaching and grasping for new understanding.