I Thought I Knew

I thought I knew you from the time
I was a little boy. I thought
I had you figured out, had seen
At least the vast majority
Of all you were. Of course, we’d walked
A long distance over the years.
Of course, I’d seen a lot. My view
Of you at twenty-five was sure
A different one than I had back
When I was fifteen. You’d grown so
Much, or at least it felt that way.
You were no longer bound in cute,
Constraining boxes, invented
By men with minds as small as peas.
So I assumed I’d come a long,
Long way since then, and I suppose
In some ways you had revealed more
Of all you were to me. I just
Had no idea of all that you
Still had to show. And I had no
Idea of what it’d take to catch
Those deeper glimpses of your fierce
And fiery grace, your glory both
Blinding and warm, or what it’d cost.
Perhaps when I felt complacent,
Content to know you only as
I’d known you up till then, you sent
A flood, and what a flood it was.
White waves washed over me and hid
The sun that sat in my blue sky.
With rage as strong as death, backed by
The power of the living God,
They rushed down the valley I called
My life and washed away the props
I’d built for myself just in case.
You took me to the end of me
And then a little further. I
Assumed, perhaps rightfully so,
I’d died. No heart can bear such weight.
For certain I had broken some-
Thing deep down, some fundamental
Part of my soul, and there was no
Repair possible. I was done.
Then, dangling in the void beyond
Myself, the void where no hope grows,
The place where only darkness dwells,
I saw your hand reach out and grab
Me even there, and it was not
A grip of anger but of love.
And once more I felt something I
Was sure had finally all drained out.
I felt new, surging life rush in.
And with it? That which always comes
With life: it’s closest friend called hope.
That’s how I came to taste new depths
Of living water heretofore
Unknown to this indulgent tongue.
I saw your power work within.
I felt firsthand you resurrect
Dead flesh and deader hope. I knew
Your power and your love reached far
Beyond what I assumed were bounds
Kept by most reasonable men,
For you are not a man but God.
When I was finally convinced
My light had gone out for the last
Time, you came again, stepped in, touched
Me, and assured this trembling heart
You were not going anywhere.
You’re not the God of props but he
Who raises dead men’s heart from tombs
Their very hands have dug. You’re not
The God of plastic hope but hope
As strong as refined steel. You’re not
The God of the living only;
You’re also he who rules the dead
And bids them stand when he sees fit.
Not even death can separate
Me from your love, a nice refrain
I’d heard before but now had felt.
You weren’t a long-faced drill sergeant,
Just waiting for a chance to strike.
You were a loving Father who
Longed more than anything to let
His loved son experience grace
Before unknown, though it cost him,
And so you called him out into
The fray and let the devil strike
Because you knew you’d raise him up
Even after the devil made
Him drown. And that’s how you take death
And turn it into your servant.
And that’s how your invite your sons
Out into more of you. They lose
Their lives but find you give them life
Their older brother bought with blood.
So now I wonder just how much
Remains for me to know of you.
The call to die is one you sing
To me each day, yet with it you
Swear by your name that you will stand
Ready to raise me up again,
Both every day and finally once
Forever. Even so, God, come
That I might know still untouched depths
Of you, the spring of living hope.