Why, Father?

Father, why do You listen to me?

I have committed so much evil, realised so many wicked thoughts, spawned so much anger and confusion, planted so much hatred, nurtured so many doubts. I look upon the field sown with my sin and patiently await Your retribution, even thirsting for it.

I have placed so many sharp stones in the hands of those who curse Your name, woven so many whips for Your back, dedicated so many blasphemous words to Your name, my Lord.

But instead of a fiery rain, instead of a bottomless cauldron for my hardened black heart, instead of Your consuming wrath — I hear in the silence Your gentle loving voice.

The warmth of Your inexplicable love fills the vessels of my fallen and sinful soul. Tears of Your mercy and fatherly tenderness saturate my heart. You lovingly call me.

Who am I, that from the endless ocean of Your righteous and loving people, You chose me, You looked upon me, You knew my name and called out to it? Why do You listen to me, heed my voice hoarse from hatred? Why do You love me?

I have never understood, though I have tried very hard to comprehend You and Your love for me. I have sinned so much, and continue to sin to this day. And no matter how much I repent every day — like a dog I return to my vomit, nothing deters me. How has my fallen and sinful to the core soul earned such precious attention from its Creator?

Who am I, that You so attentively listen to my words?

I have known and know so many worthy people, righteous and honest, walking their path from the beginning under Your name. So much light and goodness from their deeds, so much hope and love from their words, so much faith and tenderness from their thoughts...

But what have You seen in my heart, full of sin and coldness?

My sin is neither imaginary nor pretended. I commit much evil against Your commandments every day. My soul is black, and no matter how high I look in my prayers to the heavens, my soul is like a pig — it only sees beneath its own black hooves.

Why do You give me so much? There are many worthy around, many humble and righteous, why do You spend so much of Your light and love on me? Even when my hand hangs along my leg, sinking in the swamp of cowardice, You grasp it and lift it to Your lips.

People tell me that Your love is incomprehensible to me, but even that is an empty sound before Your mercy and kindness. Every praise that comes from human lips is but a pitiful shadow of my love for You, my Lord and my God. And though others may see pride in my flesh, I will not dissuade them — for the sin of my soul is heavier than any accusation. Even in my ode, I see only a pitiful attempt to somehow justify the boundless universal attention that You undeservedly generously bestow upon me, a sinner...

And yet You love me.

Only You wish to understand me. Only You desired to know my heart, and to introduce Yourself. Only You are ready to patiently remain silent, attentively listening to my weakened soul.

You extend to me Your wounded hands, You reveal to me Your pale body pierced by my unbelief, my cowardice. You gently place my hands in Your wounds, and with a kind smile patiently gaze into my eyes. You are ready to cover the grass of the whole world with dew, just so that I, a small and foolish worm, may see Your infinite and pure love. You are long-suffering. You cover all things and believe all things.

Whom shall I praise? Whom shall I serve? Before whom shall I humbly kneel, if not before You? How dare I remain silent, and hide my admiration for Your name?