I’ve heard You called by these names.
When I read them aloud
in a sea of voices in Sunday worship
I feign comfort and assurance
at the power these names imply.
I read stories of You
speaking through whirlwinds
appearing in fire
and affirm my desire to follow.
Then I listen to the radio
and hear that this Earth
the very ground we live and move upon
has cracked wide open
yet again.
The land that gives life and vegetation
now rushes down the mountain
burying all in its path.
and I wonder if I really mean those words I recite on Sunday
the ones I whisper now:

I trust that You are there
in the places where the Earth cracks and slides
in the villages and cities in chaos
in the homes and halls of pain.
I trust that new life emerge from these cracks
and ascend to heights I cannot conceive.
In those moments when my trust quakes
I see a glimmer to remind me.
Something as simple as a child’s sidewalk art
that proclaims
“love is stronger than fear.”