in my mind, there are two Gods:
the first, the One i knew
and grew with;
the One i loved from so young.
He, who i ripped apart books for,
who i prayed to for other people’s salvation
who i surrendered my soul to again
without realizing the cost. (i asked
to be a victim soul, Lord,
i take it back.
i take ME back.)
the last time i prayed to Him and really meant it
i fell asleep and woke
with dead family.
we haven’t spoken since, except in shouts
the second i am learning.
have been learning, in this school of mine.
these theologies newer than the ones i was raised in:
the One i encountered in the Holy Land
bright and sacred and holy holy holy
they tell me this Holy One is kinder than i have been taught.
that my sin did not earn the Son’s death, but rather
the Son loved so much
He was put to death; but resurrected in love’s ultimate triumph.
that this is a Creator for the oppressed, the heartsick
this is a Deity for Justice and Love.
but these Gods are the same Man (and He feels
like Man, still, though God ought to have no gender)
and i cannot love the Savior without encountering
Take this cup from me.
Let me love You in a way that is uncomplicated
let me be released from the guilt i feel is your judgement
let me free to find something Holy
i don’t have to burn myself to love.
— tongues of fire (or living water?) by Drea Onzagle