There is a great cartoon that shows Evangelists at the door of a woman’s sparse room asking her if she had found Jesus. Looking closely, you see “Jesus” hiding behind her curtains.

Hiding. From those whom are asking her “if she had found…”

But I am ratting him out. I’m snitching, turning him in, outing him. To his assassins? Blood on the door? Rock rolled away?

Who’s looking for him? His flock? His tormentors? Us?

Seek and you shall find. I’ve sought. I catch a glimmer. I run. But can never hide.

He is everywhere – within and without. In all. Many names has he.

So, I’m giving him up. Not giving up on him. He won’t let me do THAT.

Hallelujah.

Susan P.