That the man should expect
God to reach out to him
Any farther than he has
Already reached out to us all
Is troublesome to me—
As if in the sacrifice of his very self,
God had not yet done enough,
And more were needed.

But had the demonstration
Of God’s love been no more
Than a traveling carnival,
Come and gone,
There would still have been
Plenty in it to entice
The grateful soul to find God
All these years hence
In those marvelous stories,
And devote himself rightly
To the Way and Truth and Life.

And I suppose it flatters toddler man—
Too big for his britches—
To fancy God as his personal nanny,
Cajoling him with endless peekaboo,
As if the man’s admiration were a prize
Without which God just cannot do,
And for which God would break the rules
If he could but see the man smile.

And I cannot account for how much
God may actually romance the man—
Though I am fairly certain that
Far too many have got themselves
Both a puffed-up view of their value
And a whittled-down view of
Their due diligence in responding
To what God has already done.

---