Brother Jal requested early proof
You were Who You say You are.
Into his palm a hot coal dropped,
Jal’s conviction established
when in Your presence he felt no pain.
But we note the seared flesh,
the permanent damage, his agony
recurrent in
Your every absence.
That consequence, threat, cost keeps us
firmly in the twilight, limbo state of faith,
paying Your status lip service, glibly eschewing
the proof, the frightening, possible damage
and anguish of taking into hand
the terrible truth of Who You and God really are.
O child of God, until truth is for its own sake sought,
the heart and mind will ever shy away.
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