I know where God is hiding. He’s the one roaming the streets in tattered clothes, coming from the mountain as cold, and wearing a hoodie to stay warm. That’s him, acting the sheriff, chasing con men around. He comes every Friday to bow his head, and on Sundays, to the tithe box to pay his accruals. He is the same monk leading the pack of men reading the ten commandments, with a calf in sight.
He is that man covered in veil in the moon, with his hand acting rays holding the sun. Listen, hear him guiding some and allowing others go astray. That’s him again, feeding babies from mothers breasts. There he is, perfectly setting time and rewarding patience, comforting tribulations like he knew nothing about it at first. Oh! He just shot a man, pierced another, and gave ten more, lives. Look at where he hides- in every creation as an image of himself.