POEM | Talking Prayer with the Apostle Paul

by Jon Young

Some want a god who whispers, or maybe roars. You give us a God who groans. And what is it that generates such glory-craving, guttural moans?

We are not ready for this: Our own aches lodged deeper than our bones. Desires behind desires.

So the creation itself wails, waiting for some Edenic arrival of a happily ever after. But the One who levitated over apparently eternal waters grits his proverbial teeth over the pains of another universe, groaning over the disjointed galaxies we call our souls.

Is this what you contend? So be it then.