Jesus,
You did not say
You would be.

You said,
I AM.

And something in me
falls silent before You.

Before Abraham,
before the first star
opened its eye,
before time learned
to count its days,

You were.
You are.
You simply are.

And yet, Lord,
the Eternal One
comes to me.

You come hidden
beneath the humble appearance
of bread.

The One who made the heavens
allows Himself
to be lifted
into my hands.

The One whom heaven
cannot contain
enters my mouth
and becomes food
for my hungry soul.

I receive You,
and I cannot comprehend
that the I AM
has chosen
to dwell in me.

You who needed nothing
chose to need
the shelter of a tabernacle.

You who made my body
from dust
enter that dust
and make it Your dwelling.

I bring You
my weakness,
my unfinished love,
my wandering heart.

And You do not withdraw.
You give Yourself.

Again.
Completely.
Tenderly.

Until there is no distance
between Your Most Sacred Heart
and mine
except the veil
of this mystery.

Jesus,
when I whisper
Amen
after receiving You,
let it mean more
than I believe.

Let it mean
I surrender.
I belong to You.
Come deeper.
Remain in me.
Make my heart
a living tabernacle
of Your presence.

For You are not merely
the God who was.
Nor only
the God who will be.

You are here.
The eternal I AM,
giving Yourself
to me,
so that,
little by little,
I may become
what You have always desired
one with You.

Amen.

~based on JN 8:58