XI. “Immortal, Invisible, God Only Wise”*

“God, where are your deep mysteries concealed, and how far from there have I been driven by the consequences of my sins? Heal my eyes, and I will rejoice with you in your light. Surely if there is a mind endowed with such great knowledge and foreknowledge as to know all past and future things—in the way that I know an utterly familiar song—that mind is altogether wonderful and terrifyingly astonishing.”

I have known your mercy and grace throughout my life; mercy, sparing me from what I deserve and grace in giving me what I don’t.

You have forgiven my many trespasses, provided for me, and in spite of my confusion, contempt, or thirst for vindication of myself, hewn a path through this world. I’ve been pulled, and pushed by your will. It has all been as it should have been, as you’ve ordained it and I’ve sought it out.

Yet, I’m unhappy and restless. You make me laugh out loud, when you resolve a tension, untie a not, feed a hunger, or quench a thirst because I still say, “Yeah but I’m so worried,” or “What about this or that.”

Forgive my ingratitude, my backseat driving, my whining, and my fear.

I may have gotten better about acting with faith, and I think you’ve given me more faith because of that. You have worked me and all of us into your song, even so that our resistance to it becomes melody, rhythm, and lyrics. You are “hororrem stupendus.”

I’m still worried about what we call the “future;” but back to the beginning I go.

“Opera mutas nec mutas consilium.”

“Whatever has already been done, and whatever ages are yet to come, lie open before that mind, just as when I sing a song.”

To January 6