From of Old, All know to come to you –
the poorest of shepherds to the richest of royalty
the wisest of astrologers to the common thief,
but we are afraid because coming to you means letting go.
Long ago you spoke active love into the stale stillness of non-existence,
and we refuse to listen
because to hear that love would shatter our apathy.
We hid in the darkness…
and you said, “Let there be light.”
We drowned ourselves in the chaos of the desert of meaninglessness
and you said, “Let there be land and sea.”
We sowed seeds of division in the garden,
burned the trees of truth and justice,
and slaughtered the lamb as if it were a lion:
and you said, “Let them be fruitful and multiply again and again.”
We denied being your children,
tried to hide our nakedness among the thorn bush,
and blamed you for our problems:
and you sent a child to bring all your children home.
And now New, to know you we come –
the poorest of mechanics to the richest of CEOs
the most studied professors to the dropouts,
and we are not afraid because coming to you means letting go.
–Nathan Decker ©2014 Worship’s Wake