we haven't loved you, God

Father, we come.

You are worthy of far more than the leftovers we give;

     . . . we confess that we've followed You like a set of rules

     . . . that we've been rigid in our religious acting out of "worship."


at best, we've modeled You; though, love has not always been what we've sought;

     . . . our focus has been on getting the title of Christian right

     . . . we've made rules and requirements, as if this life were a job description to fill.


You tell us to simply "Follow me," and we've totally missed the point;

     . . . we've loved comfort and control, and we haven't even considered loving You

     . . . we take You for granted, confident and sure that You love us no matter what.


we still pout and stammer and run and hide;

     . . . why don't we just face You and get real with You?

     . . . why don't we pour out our confessions like the ease in which we pour wine?


we go to things that take us to happy places, yet only You take us to higher places;

     . . . only You pick us off the floor and wipe our tears when we've fallen

     . . . only You take our messes and clean us up, and behold us instead of berating us.


we confess our love of money, and attention, and cushy-comfy, and instantly realized dreams;

     . . . might this truth-telling and guttural admission free us to love You, instead of us

     . . . more than this or that or them


though we don't know what it will mean for our very lives, may we choose You;

     . . . may we accept our cup -- as it is -- and abide in Your peace

     . . . may we stay and experience Your without-conditions love, no matter what


might our staying and our trusting and following You be our offering of love to You.

     . . . amen