We have come to this. God, who slipped in among us, curled tight in his mother’s embrace is stretched wide, fixed by our hatred to the only sense we can make of him.
It has ever been our way to take for ourselves what is good, consume it, lust, kill what we cannot grasp. We take the holy and burn it, melt it down, fashion something we can manage. Here, we think, we will put this God, fasten him to our own understanding.
Look what we have done.
Voice that commanded our existence now raggedly whispering (Father, forgive). Hands that shaped ours from dust clenched around the iron of our breaking. Breath breathed into us, very life shuddering in final gasp.
This is our God.
Look, you who say you cannot understand his ways, cannot accept this challenging God. Stand here. Take it in.
God of our bewilderment, we have killed you. You have done it.
And still we do not understand and still you stay for us all the way to the end. Yes your ways are incomprehensible too high, too wide too long and deep. But may we stay here at the place where we killed you. May we wait through the long silence. All the way to morning.
View from the Valley 