“O God, I dwell in time and can barely express what time is.
My rushing around and constant search for the next thing is little more than a futile attempt to numb myself to the unbearable reality– time is slipping away from me.
I feel the claim on being that Your image grants me; I feel that my life should not fade away to nothing.
Yet every graveside I visit, every quiet moment of stillness, hauntingly mocks me.
Time marches on and, as You have said, I wither and fall like the grass in a field.
You are so different.
Always living, always there, all-knowing.
I have studied books and languages.
Sometimes paying attention, but often not.
You have never grown in wisdom, for You are wisdom.
I have forgotten and confused so many things; you are knowledge.
Outside time You know perfectly.
You never age or weaken.
And yet Your perfection is not a splendid isolation– surely the thing that surpasses all others in beauty is that You graciously deign to speak with me, one of Your mortal creatures.
Your perfect knowledge is shared with me, wills good for me, and is all-loving despite knowing my sin more deeply than I do.
Forgive me for not talking enough with You, for imagining that You are as little as me, and for my futile attempts to overcome my creaturely limits.
Awaken in me a more passionate dependence upon You, a more humble reverence for Your perfect knowledge.
In Jesus’ name. Amen.”
–Peter Sanlon, Simply God: Recovering the Classical Trinity (Downers Grove, IL: Inter-Varsity Press, 2014), 102.
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