Dig Deep

“Every waking hour I’m choosing my confessions….” – R.E.M.

All of my friends are finding religion.

Scripture and church

schedules. Youth groups.

bible studies.

Maybe that’s what you do when you’re

pushing forty with a mortgage and some

kids and some

jobs and the weight of the world

on

your

shoulders.

I found god a long

time ago but not

in a building with a pastor

telling me

to be careful.

The enemy, he says, is near.

the sins we all commit, slight

but all sins are equal

in the eyes of the almighty.

He says.

I imagine my friends, heads

bowed over bibles and

clasped hands. I wonder

if they do find god there in

those big buildings with

those people, if he’s tucked into

the folds of the pastor’s robe, or sitting quietly

in a pew next to the squirming

toddler and the mom trying to

hush him.

Maybe god is easier to

find where there’s stained

glass and altars and baskets

passed around because loving

god costs money sometimes.

Dig deep, he says.

*-V.