I searched for God in church bells.

Listened for His genesis voice in the ringing every hour.

Stared, unblinking, at the clock's hypnotic hands, 

Faithfully waiting for the so-called healing that time would allegedly bring.

And Sunday would come,

The ringing - rung.

But God was not in the church bells.

I searched for God in the joy.

In the programmed smiles of well-meaning church folk and the robotic wonder of worship.

The "Rinse and Repeat" joy that felt so easy before,

The joy that was my safety net, but where I once saw strings, I now see holes. 

Where joy once took trust, it now takes courage.

I jumped anyway.

But God was not in the joy.

I searched for God in the heavens.

Praying the thunderous boom of His interstellar voice would shatter my disbelief.

I built a ladder from the last remaining shards of my hope, 

I would make my fearful heart stare up at His gargantuan throne in wonderment, 

Force my mind to accept its own frailty and minisculity.

Punish my eyes in His blinding light for even thinking they could see, let alone understand the mystery of His ways.

So I climbed…

But God…

I found God meditating in the cryptic labyrinth of my doubts,

Self-assured and unwavering in the blueprintless maze of my jumbled up faith.

I found Him resting, already acquainted with my darkness, 

Finding peace in my torrential storm because He knew He could silence the waves whenever He wanted.

I found Him sitting at a well, drawing fresh tears for my weary eyes 

When I was too weak, too broken to cry on my own.

I looked down at my blistered hands, full of splinters

And let go of the ladder I once used to climb to the heavens.

I lay down on the cold, hard floor; this was my church, my worship, my heaven. 

And gently closed my weary eyes.

God was in the stillness.

This whole time, God was with me.