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.