THE GOD THAT WE LOVE

The God that we love is no God we see,
Though deep and accute our vision may be
To beauty and construct, natural and wrought.
Still unsighted, our God, ever sought.

The God that we love is no God we hear.
While “Thus says the Lord” rings bold and sincere,
The words are the prophets’, theirs evermore.
Still unheard but, our God, listened for.

The God that we love is no God we know.
In spite of a search begun long ago,
A mystery is there we can’t comprehend.
Still unknown is our god, without end.

The God that we love may not even be;
To face this our mind must always be free.
Our heart says that God awaits us, instead,
Our of sight and, always, up ahead.

INSPIRATION

Inspiration, wondrous gift,
You our muddled minds and hearts uplift.
And inspiration, gracious guide,
You a vision to our eyes confide.
Ever new and ever free,
Ever met in mystery,
You come not at our behest,
But as our most dear and welcome guest.

Inspiration, force divine,
Praised as holy presence throughout time.
Or inspiration, source innate,
Power to imagine and create.
Whether Spirit called, or Muse,
You have always seemed to choose
To be borth, with equal care
For the artist’s dream, the faithful’s prayer.

Inspiration, heavenly love
From a diety this world above.
Or inspiration, feminine,
Life’s potential dwelling deep within.
This we know: that you will come
When our spirit is at one
There with you, in or beyond;
And it’s we who must dare to respond.

TO A GOD WITHIN

To a God within
whose name we barely whisper,
To a God within
whose name we’ve seldom known:
Silently we wait
for distances to close;
Hopefully we wait
to be with you alone.

To a God within
whose presence we have doubted,
To a God within
whose presence we’ve ignored:
Patience, that we’ve lacked,
may hold us true at last;
Openness we’ve lacked
may let us meet our Lord.

To a God within
whose word is inspiration,
To a God within
whose word direction gives:
Wondrous is your voice
to which our heart awakes;
Precious is your voice
by which our spirit lives.

FURTHER STILL

Further still
than hill or mountain peak,
Further still
abides the help we seek.
Further than the heavens
where the planets roll
Abides the love
that lives to make us whole.

Closer still
than eyes alert may see,
Closer still
than reason’s trusted key.
Closer than the psyche,
closer than the soul,
Abides the love
that works to make us whole.

Deeper still
than deepest therapy,
Stronger still
than medicine can be.
Bolder still than passion
bursting from control
Abides the love
that dies to make us whole.

SURPRISED BY GOD

Sometimes it’s through people,
persons we have measured,
From whom we expect just so much,
and nothing more.
Then these very persons
one day will astound us,
And our world is shaken.
Surprised by God.

Sometimes it’s through nature,
which we take for granted,
Only to be stopped, as we feel
its awesome force.
Beauty beyond telling,
power often deadly,
And our wonder’s wakened.
Surprised by God.

Sometimes it’s within us,
sought or unexpected,
Leading us to peace, or to where
there is no peace.
Finding a connection,
finding a direction,
And our heart is taken.
Surprised by God.

GOD’S DEAREST WORK OF ART

God’s dearest work of art
we long have called the heart,
The depth within from which begin
the prayers that we impart.
A heart whose thoughts exceed
our reason and our need,
And open us to fuller life
Beyond our wants and greed.

In manner bold or meek,
if from the heart we speak
We speak to God, we reach to God,
for God is whom we seek.
And when our heart lies bare,
No matter when or where,
Or how the words are first addressed,
our speaking is a prayer.

To so disclose the heart
is then the crucial part.
The very wish to speak like this
becomes the way to start.
And when, touched by love’s fire,
to love we then aspire,
We know all that we need to know:
the heart lives through desire

A SKEPTIC’S HYMN

This, my song, a skeptic’s hymn,
ode to mystery within,
Sung to you no one can prove,
dwelling there, as real as love.
Of your forms portrayed without,
all evoke a lingering doubt.
Your own presence you bestow.
From experience, I know.

Blind belief and full assent
by maturity are rent.
Questions follow questions asked,
taunt the present, as the past.
Challenge all authority,
scripture, doctrine, history,
Leaving what my heart has known,
what experience has shown.

Nothing more this heart can move
than to know that I do love,
And, as crucial, to believe
I myself can love receive.
Be this but a moment’s grasp,
such conviction long will last,
Firmer than mere faith or guess.
This experience will test.

You, the source of love, I name,
working through my heart and brain.
Be this true for everyone?
Has been so, since life’s begun?
Let religions rise and wane,
love’s compassion must remain.
This is what a seeker learns.
This experience affirms