God.

Most of us don’t glow.
We talk to you, sometimes, with grief and questions,
with confidence and confusion,
with hopes and fears for ourselves and others.

When we say amen and turn to the people near us, we don’t need to put a mask over our face to keep them from being blinded. We seldom look in the mirror and think, “I’ve got a special glow.”

So when we read about Moses needing to cover his face,
we’re not sure what to think.
We want to believe it’s possible that as we talk with you, the very conversation changes us. We want to believe that we can become more and more like you.

We confess that we aren’t sure how that happens.
We confess that we’re not sure we spend enough time with you to have it happen.
We confess that sometimes we even focus more on our confession
than we do on the relationship your forgiveness invites.

You love us. You really love us.
You want to talk with us about what’s been and what is and what will be.
You want to talk with us about who we’ve been and who we are and who we will be.
You want to talk with us.
With us.
Not at us.
Not us at you.
With us.

Would you help us, by the power of your Spirit, to think about your glory.
About the glory of your self-sacrificial love.
About the glory of your holy motives and pure plans.
About the glory of your us-welcoming, us-washing, us-transforming, us-lifting love.
And, if it please you,

Could we have a little of that glory linger on our faces as we turn back to our daily lives?

May it be so.

Amen.