A Poem: Evolution of God

Life has been really busy for 2 straight years and I've about had it.
Recently, I have pulled back. I am trying to make some healthy adjustments.
One of the habits that has suffered during this frantic time is my writing.
Writing is a release for me.
A respite.
A place of peace.
And I haven't been visiting it much lately.
And so, here is my first piece of writing in a good bit.
It's raw. It's honest. 
But it's my journey (past and present).

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Evolution of God 

(Portrait #1)

Waiting and working on me again.

Expecting You to show up.

I don’t know when; I don’t know how;

but I know You will.

You always do.

Thomas needed proof. 

To touch your wounds and know You were real.

To be certain You were true.

I need proof too.

Proof to know You aren’t the God I am leaving behind.

A god of only judgement and wrath;

limited in patience and mercy,

abounding in moodiness.

I need proof that this new look at You is real and true.

That it isn’t wrong to hope you aren’t a bastard

ready to smite me in my imperfection.

I keep replaying Pascal’s wager in my head.

What if I am wrong about who You are?

What if I am wrong about You?

What if I am wrong?

Hell seems too costly a bet, doesn’t it?

But I’m already here in hell 

if you are impossible to trust,

if You aren’t good.

I’ve known that hell.

Trying to please a cruel taskmaster.

Burying my talent for fear of failure.

Afraid to lift my eyes to Yours,

because I am sure I will only see disappointment.

I’ve listened to the marching orders;

all legalistic and concerned about the outside.

I’ve carried my whitewash and marched right into the tomb

and away from You.

Straight on into Hell anyway.

Because what if I am wrong?

So I ask the same old questions 

as I sit across from one with a degree and listening ear.

I explain the eroding of a god I believed existed but cannot follow now.

In the middle of my messy waiting and working,

as I work on how I see me and understand You;

You come into view.

Closer and closer.

Until I feel Your breath again.

Pneuma.

You are more than I thought You were.

Bigger than previous glance.

Grander than first believed.

More mysterious than expected.

You show up, just like You always do.

And even while trying to hide away, 

I look up into Your face,

hoping to catch a glimpse without Your awareness.

And I see Your eyes awash with tears, 
and wonder for the first time if the tears are born from love, not disappointment?

And I see the fire in Your expression,
and wonder if I misinterpreted the fury? Was it really the thunder of laughter?

And I am blinded by the smile that bends Your mouth upward,
and dare to imagine what life would be like if You are more than I believed You were?

What if I was wrong?