The Tallest

We used to do a game with hands

Like most things, as a child, I didn’t understand

But we’d fold them and split them and we’d point them towards the heavens

Like in most things, as a child, I simply wanted to go home

It took six years to learn about steeples and what they were

I remembered in high school learning about the one we had in town

In a class about current events

People argued whether it should be taller than anything else

To this day I’m still not sure whether it really is taller than anything else

Yet I understand the intent, and I look up at that chapel soaring high above the rest

We seem to focus on that and miss the things at street level

Doors to enter into and windows to see through

Brick and mortar

Glass caked with wax and glue from a hundred years of use

I think we sometimes forget that God appreciates a handmade candle

He doesn’t focus on them and dwell on them like we do, but He appreciates them

When He sees the things we’ve poured ourselves into, He sees us, and He loves the us that’s in them

I give glory to God almighty for anything I pour myself into

And then I understand why we built steeples

Yet we argue, and we fight over whether it needs to be the tallest, when we’re missing the whole point

When we get angry and hate each other for building a building taller than the building we’ve built

I suspect we missed the whole reason we built it that way in the first place

Like most things, as a child, I don’t understand

But I fold my hands like I did then and I split them and then I point them towards the heavens

Like in most things, as a child, I simply wanted to go home

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