I don't know if this is finished.

I have an over-sized bathtub in my one bedroom apartment. I'll call it a garden tub, yes, a garden tub that's over-sized, and overused. Last night, I tip-toed into the bathtub with approximately 4 books about God, a notebook, my journal, my Bible, and an audio Bible playing on my CD player.

I didn't become aware of what I was doing until I had done it. And it looked like the efforts a little girl might make to feel part of something bigger. And before I knew it, everything in me was crying out. Every part of my body hurt as I longed for Him. Like what felt like tiny golden chords tied to every pore on my skin that began in Heaven and ended on my skin. And I felt every one of them being pulled so gently, but not enough.

Maybe I thought the more books I had to look at and the more places I had to write about Him would calm the desire inside my heart. And I think He looked at me and smiled at my pathetic attempt to show Him my heart.

Maybe it was a sad sort of smile, because He knows my heart and how it longs. And He must have laughed a little to himself, at this little creature He had made, with her strange mind and funny symbolism. And I think He must have been close, because as much pain as I felt from missing something that I couldn't quite have enough of, I want to feel it all the days I breathe life on this earth. And I cried. Oh how I cried. And it wasn't a few tears falling down my face. It was the sort of hyperventilation cry that happens upon little girls when they want something so bad and they've been told they can't have it.

Wait. Please don't get me wrong. I am not saying I can't have God. Oh, I have Him alright. I have more than I thought I ever could. But this, it's a supernatural sort of longing in my spirit, and it won't be satisfied until my body is able to withstand all of Him it longs for. Which in turn, means I'll never be satisfied until I become supernatural myself. When I die.

So I'm crying and feeling and loving and thinking. And I remember asking God,

Are these the tears You cry as You long for Your people? Because it feels like something like that might feel. Are these the tears You cry when You long to lead your children home, but CAN'T because we'd like to choose death instead?

And we willingly hammer those nails in Your hands and Your feet, and we make a crown from thorns, and push it into the flesh of Your Son. And then we walk away, too little faith and too much greed to wait around and see a miracle happen three days later; after all, we've got other idols to tend.