I searched for Him

in the church past the potted plants

and small talk, near the coffee maker,

in the knot of controversy,

in tangled threads of words.

I searched for Him

among those with ringing, radiant smiles,

and those who carry itemized records of wrongs.

I searched for Him

amid my own stale thoughts and the small

impotent movements of my heart,

and there I found Satan,

playing with me like a ball of yarn.

Christ found me

on the back steps, the downward slope

of my dejection, failure, and sin.

There He took hold of me and did not let me go again.