Adonai and the author

Who am I? 

How is it that my fingers hold this pen to paper in a home that is safe and a country that is free? 

How does everything I've ever learned cohesively allow me to subject you to my endless banter and unsolicited opinions? How could it be that I am alive, born in a world where I was given every needed thing to survive without having to fight for it on my own? 

Am I a product of of spoils, a child of privilege- or is this my role meant to be fulfilled, waiting for another inhabitant in the event that I  was tardy to my post? 

Whatever the reason, I am me.
I am here, and I am thankful.
I am a child of Adonai, I am a unique creation.

Beyond that, my friend, I can't be rightly sure. 

Just as one stamped with the loving spittle of a mother gluing down a stray hair on picture day, I am aware of a parental nurturing beyond my comprehension. 

That stubborn, knowing adoration never abandoned me regardless of the direction I have chosen to travel. 

It was there, but not as a rain of fire or smoldering brimstone looking to scath me in every wrong turn. 

It was simply waiting- gently, patiently for me to come on back so we could talk about the experience and troubleshoot the areas that caused me to suffer, as well as what went great. 

That is the love of a parent, the strength of a leader, the hand of a savior. 

THAT is my Adonai,

Not the white youth group Jesus we have created, but the true God of the universe. He's the one that loves addicts, prostitutes, fishermen, tax collectors and every single person in between. 

He is not simply organic or pure, but the Genesis of all organisms down to the atomic level.

He is the science behind intelligent design. The Savior of all of humanity is not simply a perfect man, but the Living God. 

That is Adonai, the ancient and sacred name of the Lord, the only name that I would want to grace my body. 

This temple that he created is a vessel for all that I am, have been, and am yet to be. 

I may not know who I am or where I fit most days, but every day He calls me something I know to be his own for me-Author.

There was a day when I wanted my God to call me another name, I wanted for my purpose to be different. 

But now that I've heard it, now that I know, I would never want anything other than what I was meant for, and it feels like that's exactly what this is. 

I don't know if everybody has this experience of feeling drawn toward that which they are made to fulfill, and I don't know if anybody will believe that this is mine. 

That doesn't matter to me as much as the fact that I know it's true. 

Who am I? 

Most days I can't be rightly sure, 

But I do know that there's someone so much greater than I who calls me Author, and that seems to fit just right.