The Fear of the Lord

I've spent enough time in church on weekdays
To wander through empty sanctuaries, 

Gaping chasms in the dark

Full of the pregnant pause of anticipation. 

There's a comfort there, 

But also fear. 

Perhaps it's merely the primal fear of the dark 

Combined with a space so large,

But I think the fear comes from its wildness; 

A space full of God's presence and devoid of people,

Where God can speak words beyond our control

Without the distraction of human voices

Or the posturing of social gatherings. 

A place where there's nothing to stop us 

From hearing whatever follows 

"Thus said the Lord."

Perhaps that's the root of the idea of 

The fear of the Lord; 

We find ourselves terrified in God's presence 

Not because of the possibility of annihilation

But because of the certainty

That we can't leave that hallowed space

Without a divine purpose guiding our footsteps. 

We are terrified because we know 

The Lord cannot be tamed or negotiated with:

The calling God places on our lives 

Is all-consuming. 

It devours our lesser plans; 

It sends us to places no sane person

Would ever choose to go. 

So we avoid the comfort our sanctuaries can bring

Unless we are surrounded by the safety

Of the noise that will allow us to leave

Still in control of our own destinies.