Maybe Love

Jesus was nailed to a Maybe.
He opened his arms,
committed to welcoming Anyone,
Anyone who would come.
We put nails through His hands
to keep them that way,
in case we need them that way
later,
maybe.

Some of us decide to say No.
But He waits anyway,
with His hands nailed far apart,
reaching,
because maybe
we will turn back.

It’s hard, this love –
this Love
that gives us a choice,
this hard choice.
Most of us are not strong enough
to say anything but
maybe.

To say Yes
would mean committing,
opening up my arms
to welcome all these creatures
like me, imperfect and selfish.
Maybe they will support and bless me.
But Maybe they will betray me,
fail and wound me
as I hang there, vulnerable.
And I would have to say “yes” anyway.
That’s not a kind of love
that comes easily to
Gods or mortals.

So most of us say
maybe.
And we come back now and then
to ask this man - bloody, nailed to a piece of wood -
why people die and why people kill.

This Love longs, dreams,
aches to welcome us until He needs
nails to hold His arms open wide enough
to let in everyone who might deserve it,
or want it, somehow, sometime,
maybe.

Oh, may it be!
This maybe is a prayer.
Pray that it might be!
Pray that those arms are wide enough
for me.