I got your message, God.

You know that, of course, but I am writing for another reason: to let others know that you continue to speak.

But first, for readers unaware, I will talk about how I see you: deeply personal, all-powerful, somehow unknowable and intimate. Beautiful. It is something like the rabbi I heard about, who said that he did not believe in God, but what he believed in, he called “God.”

And you, God, in whom I live and move and have my being (we all do, believe it or not), speak to those who will hear.

I am willing, so willing, to listen and learn. I asked you quite awhile ago, and I asked publicly, for you to speak in a language I can hear. And, oh my God, how you do . . . It is how I can listen for hours every day. Thank you for that.

Your message to me, because of its nature, I will not write. That is sort of the point, as you know. But may I describe it? It came three ways, and/or, in three parts. And I like that, that it came as a three. Because that is your way: To speak, if we are open and mostly empty of self, in a way that captures our attention at many levels. And, I will say that quite often, you speak to me so specifically, so perfectly timed, so full of the voice that I hear, that I know it is you. There is no question. An observer, even a skeptical one, would call it a miracle or at least eerie. I also appreciate that your message to me reflects your revelation and work in this world.

One part, enables the second, and is connected to the last. And this “part” was Father. Tender, loving, passionate, and beautifully communicated. This is the you, God, that I hear most often, and I have not shared just how often. I tell wonderful stories, stories full of wonder, I mean. You have sent angels, messengers, to me. I talk about bus angels, and there are those. They are nice, but not true angels, really. Just people from whom I learn something or observe and write about. But twice now, I have been spoken to (once on a bus, actually, and once on SW 10th Avenue) in a prophetic way that left no question in my mind what I was to hear. But I have not told nor shared with anyone just how unspeakably clearly and firmly that you have revealed some of your truth to me. And in multiple ways, but mostly in the very way I asked you for awhile ago. I find it joyful.

Another “part” was Son, because it contains a kind of sacrifice. And here, I must explain–not to you–but to myself and perhaps readers, that sacrifice in this case is strange, different, other. This is difficult, hard, brutally baffling to me. I am up for any challenge, and I possess qualities given by you, and some I have developed myself (but, arising from you, of course), that make me strong, able to do things. Tenacious. Fierce. Cunning even. And courageous, brave, fearless. And I sound boastful, but I am not. I’m just wide awake, and I should care what other people think about me, but half the time I don’t even know what I think about me, so I just go on. And I act like a fool at times; I do know that. But, this Son message is new. That is it: I am facing something I have never before encountered. I thought that I had, that I had seen this kind of wonder and recognized it for its worth, a worth which was high to me. But I had no idea. It is epic, beyond the literary sense. It is cinematic, beyond my ability to see all of the time. That is a confession. This is the most beautiful wonder and joy I have imagined. But I am slowly, painfully, learning it is far beyond that. It is worth more of me, more from me, yet it takes nothing. I must do this: honor its value, cherish it as a gift, revere it as unique, utterly unique to a degree I still do not know. I must admit that and I do confess it. Right here, right now, I do.

The last “part” was Spirit, in the manner in which it was revealed. It even changed during the course of the day, like the spirit wind, alive. But, I heard it, and it makes sense to me. And it was needed, and that is a relief of sorts.

Well, these “parts” are nothing of the kind really. It was a single message just as you are three in one. Beautiful, hard, and alive–threads of gold and iron intertwined with an ivy vine. One in a vast mystery of unity. That is also the way you speak. And you did today.

I got your message . . .