That season when the stripped, native ‘me’ can access its fullest window for expression, may my confused, questioning soul find resolve, find enough courage to approach thee – even then.
Yes, then:
when my prestige is no more pertinent,
and I have dropped the necessary air I think I must wear before people – then:
when titles & applause matter nothing,
and I am left alone to face my darkness… May I come.
Then:
hidden away from the public gaze of the sympathetic or sycophantic crowd, like Nicodemus, Lord, let me then ‘appear before thee’ – a sincere ‘Seeker’ – before men meet me again in the morning.
Amen!
Thou art not missing, but I won’t find thee, till I seek thee.
–Gideon Odoma
