Fighting perfection

I’m bound hand-to-hand, ankle-to-ankle, face-to-face with God. He’s pressing in to me and I can’t escape. His hands grip mine. I try to shrink away, but there’s nowhere to go. He leans in, pressing his forehead against mine. He eyes bore into me. His mouth is on mine. I’m desperate to shut him out. I try to scrunch my eyes closed, my mouth. But I can’t. He inhales and I can feel myself being sucked away. I fight so hard. I don’t want to surrender. But I’m powerless. I’m utterly drained—he consumes me.

God exhales, but what He breathes back into me, through this soul kiss, isn’t me. It’s Him. It’s Life. Like Moses, I feel my face shine. Tears spill from my lids at the breathless marvel of what has just happened. My fists relax and our fingers intertwine. Our eyes millimeters apart, I see the twinkle in His. He’s smiling at me. There’s a frozen moment, the delight in his eyes at my surprise and wonder. Our fingers locked together, our toes touching. His breath, His life filling my lungs.

I blink and I’m struggling again. My flesh is corrupting His breath. I’m desperate to be away! I’m jerking to the left and right. “Let me go!!” He is implacable. His hands grip mine again. He presses against me, his weight dampening my thrashing. His eyes find mine again, his lips clamp onto mine.

And so it goes every day, every breath.

I fight against perfection, yet I long for it.