The Christic

I am looking at a tree, but I see such astounding beauty and

graciousness, the tree must be You, O God,

I look at the wild weeds playing across the fields, and their

wild joyful freedom speaks to me of You, O God.

Yesterday, I saw a child crying alone on a busy corner, and

the tears were real, and I thought, you must be crying, O God.

God, you are the mystery within every leaf and grain of sand,

in every face, young and old, you are the light and beauty

of every person.

You are Love itself.

Will we ever learn our true meaning, our true identity?

Will we ever really know that we humans are created for

love?

For it is love alone that moves the sun and stars

and everything in between.

We are trying too hard to find You, but You are already here,

We are seeking life without You, but You are already within,

Our heads are in the sand, our eyes are blinded by darkness,

our minds are disoriented in our desperate search

for meaning.

Because You are not what we think You are:

You are mystery.

You are here and You are not,

You are me and You are not,

You are now and You are not,

You are what we will become.

You are the in-between mystery

The infinite potential of infinite love,

And it is not yet clear what You shall be,

For we shall become something new together.

(Delio, Ilia. The Not-Yet God: Carl Jung, Teilhard de Chardin, and the Relational Whole, p. 259)