Longing is the language of my soul. I long for something words fail to describe. To say it is God that I long for is truth. I long for God. But He plays hide and seek with me. Each time I think I’ve found Him, He upends my concept of who He is with an inexplicable and fundamental change in being. This is not so bewildering as it is joyful.
In other words, my words will not nail Him to my reality. They fail to adequately describe him. Is this why the Jews would not dare to say His name? Instead they link four consonants together to form an unpronounceable word: YHWH.
He is above my mortal and finite descriptions. Those words are bound to my human experience. They are a flimsy attempt at making Him into me when it is clear that He had the opposite in mind.
I describe Him and systematize Him and categorize Him; I experience Him. When I do I am overwhelmed each time. Because He is not a He. He is not a She or an It. He is not my words. He is above all that, bigger, better; more attuned to the zillion variables only He can effortlessly juggle and epitomize.
This humbles me. I remind me that He is so much more than my limited frontal lobe and limbic system can grasp. Consume me Lord and keep me on my toes. I am Yours.