Who am I?

A question I’ve asked again and again. And the answer is always, “you are my beloved son, with whom I am well pleased.”

And sometimes those words find their way into my heart.

And sometimes they stay on the outside, a haze before my eyes, obscuring reality.

But right now they are in my heart.

They echo in the marble chamber of my mind, bouncing off cold pillars of knowledge.

They suffuse my imagination, gaining strength in that magical land.

They pour out of my mouth with all the force of a waterfall, hurrying to their grand consummation over the cliff’s edge.

The words fill my conversations, my dreams, my waking moments and my sleeping.

And the knowing becomes being.

And the line between being and doing disappears.

And I am the beloved son; I enact the knowing. Or the knowing is enacted by Him.

And I find that all has changed:

I glance at my hands and see the humble strength of responsibility—pierced by nails—bleeding Love.

“For it is not I who live but Christ who lives in me.”

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