Artisans painted my ceiling. I flew them in. I am a rich man. I am the epitome of success. I am philanthropic. I am loved. I am liked. Adored. Held to high esteem. I use strange words to be intriguing.
It's not enough.
Why isn't it?
I lay on my back and gaze at the sky, trying to look through it. I have a friend who suspects there is something on the other side.
Is that where they hide enough?
In a pocket of terror, impatience, and not caring, not really worrying what will happen, in a flash, I ask. What is it? What am I on the hunt for? I shrug. And what is on the hunt for me? I laugh, outwardly, but inside I am crying. Please, God, be real.
And then, suddenly, unexpectedly, though I'd hoped, and with a flash like mine, like mine, I see.
Oh no. The simpletons can't be right. You can't be that God. Not Him!
But He is. The God of the Jews. The Christian God. Jesus. I thought I knew everything, but I did not know this.
Finally, though, I know. And my life will never be the same overstuffed emptiness again. I won't ever be that again. I am weeping now, a mix of relieved and overwhelmed, free and aware of all that I have been freed from.
It rained. All of heaven swept down upon him. He stepped inside for shelter from the onslaught. His homemade covering was little protection. He was just a small boy carrying a shield of his own making. It was held together with what he could find in the world around him. It was frail. Temporary. Flimsy. He needed something stronger.
The Cathedral was gold, inside and out. Also flimsy. Also temporary. It was made of the world around them, though it was beautiful. They needed something stronger.
And there it was, surrounding them, a temple of the brotherhood of man. This one was not made of the things of this world, but the things of God.
The whole place was armor. A golden shield like his, made of the people who worshiped there and everywhere, a weapon that brings life not death. His heart wasn't troubled anymore, though he stood in the open for all the world to see and the rain still came down. It couldn't touch him.
Now after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, wise men from the east came to Jerusalem, saying,
“Where is he who has been born king of the Jews?
For we saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.” When Herod the king heard this, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him; and assembling all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Christ was to be born.They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea, for so it is written by the prophet:
And I will give them one heart, and a new spirit I will put within them. I will remove the heart of stone from their flesh and give them a heart of flesh, that they may walk in my statutes and keep my rules and obey them. And they shall be my people, and I will be their God.