The truth is… I don’t know where You want me — here, there, or somewhere beyond. And You have no idea how much I wish You’d tell me. Well, actually, You do know — because You know everything. I just hope You’ll tell me soon.
What I do know is where I want You: here, there, and everywhere.
I want You in every page of my story, and I want You in my future — before and beyond the horizon. I want You as my first light, before my yard brightens with Your sun; and I want You as the lighthouse that guides me through the night… night that, around this time of year, seems to fall far too soon.
I want You in my storm, even if You’re asleep; and in the wind, the earthquake, the fire, and the whisper. I want You in the abyss that calls me from the other side, on the summit of Your mountain, and in the depths of my cave.
I want You with me in the furnace, and in the belly of the fish. In the garden where I weep blood, and in the tomb where I have waited for four days. I want You with me in the cistern, and when I walk the road to Emmaus. I want You in my sycamore tree, and in my cell while I sing.
I want You when I win, and I want You when I lose — because if You are with me, the impossible just takes a little bit longer.