God of the prophets of old, God of the giver of the law, we lose you when we look away from the sun and from the earth. We look up and there before us is the beating of our own hearts, not arrayed in dazzling white, nor washed in the blood of suffering, but present as if you never left. The details of the fine print confuse us. Translate the love of now for all to see what their hearts desire standing alone before them. Amen.