The Wild God takes us as He finds us and that fact, once so reassuring, now fills me with trepidation for He finds us as we are, not as we wish we were or pretend to be. I once thought I knew myself but He has stripped so many lies and masks from me that I barely know my own truth any more.
For when He finds us, He sees us and He sees our wildness even when we ourselves do not. Wildness is never safe, never gentle, and maybe all of His people have shared my wish at one time, the wish that my wildness formed itself some other way for I know it, I feel it, I am full to overflowing with it.
My wildness is also His wildness, for He brings it out in me more vividly than I could ever have imagined and when His wildness is in me I frighten myself for it is raw, it is primal, it is flooding my veins, my pulse pounding in my ears, body shaking, skin on fire –
and it drains away. I am left a hollow vessel of His fire, empty, purged of something in me that I do not feel I control.
And the world is glorious. He is glorious for He surrounds me, Presence pressing in on me from every angle and I understand. Wildness is a sacred thing, a gift with which He may make us His own.
I’ve thought about editing this. I’ve thought about writing something else for this prompt and keeping this in my drafts, but I think that would be doing myself a disservice and in a way denying the way I connect with Him. I want to say that I was in an altered state of consciousness when I wrote this, but that phrase tends to imply drugs, trance, or both. That is not what was going on here. I was simply full of something that was His, something that I had not known before that utterly overwhelmed me. I felt wild. And with that, something in my understanding deepened.