To hear about God, to know about God, you go through the motions. You don your Sunday best. You settle reverently on a golden wood pew. Like the words that are said, a smattering of colors from stained glass windows cascades across your face but never touches your heart. You bask in the peace of the sanctuary, and ignore the questions that hover just outside the sacred walls. You leave, feeling you’ve drawn near to something important and essential, something almost there, but veiled. You walk away wistful, emptier than when you came.
But when you see God, when you know God, you are shattered. You become the kaleidoscope patterns scattered across the floor as morning light filters through stained glass. Everything makes sense, and yet nothing at all. Darkness and light emerge in sharp relief. Like leaves of light, your soul sprouts from the very source of life. Free-falling in a vast mystery, you only know that you are undone and yet inexplicably snagged in goodness, hope, love. You are never the same.