O Lord, how shall I greet you?
Shall I crawl on hands and knees over gravel? Allowing the rock to tear my flesh, allowing the physical pain to match the unworthiness I feel to approach you?
Shall I greet you like the monks of old who pray repetitiously as they flog themselves?
Would that satisfy you? Would that show you my humility in approaching you?
Shall I approach you as a well seasoned Christian? With my Bible in hand, speaking the words of the Lord’s Prayer? Praying Psalm 23 (in the King James Version of course) until my death?
Shall I sell all my possessions? Will this satisfy you? Will this show you I’m ready to know you more fully?
Tell me, show me, teach me!
Shall I learn to sing like an angel? Shall I learn the 12 steps of prayer? Shall I stand on a street corner and scream hate to passerby’s?
Maybe if I could heal the blind? Maybe if I turned from my family, my children? Maybe if I left my job to follow you?
Maybe if I prayer every morning at 8am, maybe if I lived in a house in the woods away from everyone else. Maybe then I could greet you properly?
If I could only become perfect…
A perfect Christian, a perfect wife, a perfect mother and friend.
But you don’t need any of this do you?
If I open my heart. If I open my soul to you. If I give into my deepest desires for you.
No one can take your place and no things can fill the void in my life that is there when I turn away from your face.
So I come to you, the way you made me, wholly yours, struggling to balance, sometimes crawling because I’m not ready, sometimes running frantic because I lost you in a busy crowd.
How shall I greet you?
With who I am, the one you made me to be. Hopelessly full of hope. Perfectly imperfect. Struggling to let go of the right way to do things and simply greet you.